Obvious
by phlesh
Summary: Beca begins to suspect that maybe Chloe has been more obvious about her feelings than she originally thought. Which could be a problem. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**So, okay, omg. Sorry to anyone who reads this who is currently also reading SS and thinking "why?! You have other stories to update!" and the answer is, yes, I'm sorry, but I have discovered the beauty that is Bechloe and I am TRASH for it. But, I'll still work on getting those updates up.  
** **As for anyone else, read, review, follow or fav if you're interested. This will eventually tie into the Bechloe one-shot I also have posted.  
Much love 3**

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It starts, bizarrely, on a Thursday night after some Treble's party- the result of an event that Beca was pretty sure was made up. And the Bella's, being the brazen group of party animals they were- seriously, why did none of them _ever_ pass up the opportunity of booze? Even on Thursday night's?- had of course gone, in the spirit of Acapella, or whatever.

Well, all of the Bella's aside from Beca. Who was thankful, for once, that she was legitimately experiencing a migraine that felt like two gongs being slammed together on semi-regular intervals, and cramps to boot. Despite the fact that many of the Bella's had verbally abused her when she expressed her lack of interest in the event, and, Amy, believing that she was simply lying to get out of it, had dragged her from her bed attempted to get her down the stairs before Chloe had tamed the Tasmanian. And while Jesse's harassment had been in the form of persistent texts, ones that had gotten to be a little too much for Beca- prompting her to simply shut off her cell phone and leave it there on her night stand, she couldn't be persuaded to have her evening any other way.

It was a rare kind of quiet, the kind that was so beautiful she was surprised it didn't move her to tears.

She indulged; after the Bella's had left, she'd ran herself a scalding bath, sat in the tub until the water was chilly, and then returned to her bedroom, where she has currently not moved for nearly an hour and a half. Mind you, about twenty five minutes of that time was spent in a nap that immediately followed her post-bath. Since she woke, however, Beca almost found herself tempted to turn the cellphone back on; mostly out of a pressing boredom that was starting to gnaw at her. Then, resigning to the idea that she doesn't have the energy to even begin to look at Jesse's texts, she'd left it.  
Only, this kind of silence with nothing but her own thoughts to occupy her, had lead her down the rabbit hole of becoming steadily more annoyed at the guy, because, he hadn't even expressed concern for her well-being or any interest in accompanying her. To be fair, there was the whole _she hasn't looked_ thing, so who could really say. However, when she'd first firmly told him she would not be attending, he'd just whined and complained that she didn't even care enough to come check out the party _he was co-hosting, you know._

So, long story short; Beca was beginning to brood.

And she was so wrapped up in her thoughts, that it wasn't until a creaking on the stairs snapped her out of her reverie. Beca's heart stutters for a moment- her first immediate thought finding the ominous spirit that they Bella's mutually agree lives in the basement- and she has a childish first instinct to throw the covers over her head and pray that idea away. She holds fast, however, clutching the blanket just a little bit tighter against her chest and stiffening- like the ghost has the same senses as a T-Rex. If she stays perfectly still, perhaps she will not be seen.

The fear is short-lived, however, as red hair appears between the railing of the banister; slowly revealing Chloe as she ascends the stairs. Letting out a breath, Beca relaxes slightly, "Oh," At that, the girl's blue eyes turn to her, hand clutching the railing as leverage, "I didn't hear you come in,"

The other girl reaches the top of the staircase with a huff; she's more flushed than usual, and her eyes are a little dull, and seem incapable of staying in one place, as she leans against the top of the banister. This state indicates to Beca that Chloe is, indeed, drunk. And, for the sake of Beca's comfort, should probably move away from the staircase just in case she loses footing or something.

But, after a few long seconds of Chloe rolling her head on her shoulders, Beca furrows her brows, "Have you come to check on me? And did you come alone?"

Because, if so, the walk- although not long- was still a little too risky for Beca to envision a drunk Chloe navigating on her own. To her despair, however, Chloe nods, as though finally finding the strength to answer at least _one_ of the questions. Albeit, Beca is entirely sure which one she was answering to. She assumes both.

"Did you know," The girl screws her eyes shut, the silence dragging out at the end of her sentence.

Usually, _Drunk_ Chloe is cheery, laughing, and ultimately peer-pressuring her fellow sisters into taking more shots. And, as the redhead herself had once self proclaimed to Beca, (while intoxicated) "A menace on the D-Floor, miss Mitchell," And yeah, she had a pension of trying to dance or rap battle with others around her if properly persuaded.

A _Wasted_ Chloe, who Beca has also been acquainted with on more than one occasion, became a little bit more risque with her behaviour. That entailed bumpin' and grindin', as her self-control seemed to dwindle; it is at this stage that she is even more prone to be nudged towards full-fledged _Hammered_ Chloe. She had been seen only on scarce occasions; like bigfoot, or UFO's.

 _Hammered_ Chloe, however, is a sight to behold. While _Wasted_ Chloe might emerge after- compared to Beca's ability to intake the substance- a relatively impressive amount of liquor had been consumed, it took even more to get her to this level of drunkenness. At this point, Chloe begins to lose a lot of basic motor skills, such as walking and not swaying heavily to either side- severe giggles, and at this is where the slurred speech emerges, although the girl is still bursting with confidence and cheesy pickup jokes.

Whenever Beca thinks about _Hammered_ Chloe, she is transported back to her sophomore year, where she'd experienced the other girl in this state for the first time. It was during Stacie's birthday party, and Beca had been outside for quite some time at that point, conversing with Jesse and Benji; actively trying to scope out prospects for the other boy. When she'd returned inside, however, she was greeted with witnessing _Wasted_ Chloe melted away into this new stage of intoxication; where she was sitting on the kitchen floor, a gaggle of _Wasted-to-Hammered_ Bella's surrounding her. And, being the group of racous drunks they were; Fat Amy, Stacie, Jessica, and Cynthia Rose were hooting and whistling, and chanting "Shots!" while the redhead nursed the tequila bottle in Stacie's hands as though she were a toddler. At that moment, Chloe probably had the same cognitive and functioning ability of one, too.  
Beca was so horrified that she'd stared in shock, but the bottle was inevitably pulled away and Chloe had a goofy smile on her face as the room erupted into cheers- aside from the fact she had tequila down her chin and neck, and her eyes couldn't seem to stay open. Every time she opened them they rolled back in her skull along with her head, resting against the lower cabinets with a sort of absolute drunk ignorance and bliss to, Beca assumed, just about everything happening around her. Beca doesn't think she's ever been that drunk in her whole _life._  
Alarmed, she'd grabbed onto Jesse and the two of them escorted Chloe to her bedroom despite the Bella's many cries of disapproval. As they made sure the redhead was appropriately positioned so that she wouldn't, you know, choke on her vomit in her sleep or anything- Chloe had incoherently rambled things about loving life and loving Bella's and loving Beca and loving Jesse. She'd patted the girl's head unsurely, placed the garbage can in hurl-proximity to her bed, and Jesse had filled up a glass of water and left it on the night stand. Twenty minutes later, when they'd checked on her, she was passed out on the floor now, near the garbage can, and Beca had readjusted her just as Fat Amy and Stacie burst in with drunken exuberance and taken some pictures. Beca had humoured them, mostly because she knew how mortified Chloe would be in the morning, so posed with her unconscious body like a serial killer; sporting some thumbs up and a _"Spring Break!"_ kind of expression.

But there was a haze to the imbibed Chloe across from her now that Beca didn't recognize. It made her narrow her eyes suspiciously, looking the girl over as she sighed heavily, pinching her forefinger and thumb to the bridge of her nose. Beca suspected she was chasing the train of thought she so clearly just lost.

Pursing her lips, Beca eases herself into more of a sitting position against her headboard; the minutely increased blood flow in her body upsetting the delicate balance of comfort she'd nestled herself into with a painful thud behind her temples.

"I," The girl starts again, opening a single blue eye to peek at her, "the, uhm," She lowers her hand from her nose and waves it around vehemently, "how much,"

" _Dude_ ," Beca raises her eyebrows; even _Hammered_ Chloe could usually articulate semi-coherent sentences. These were less than. "Are you okay?"

Chloe sighs, the hand drops to her thigh with dull slap, before climbing up again to rest on her hip. She could see the girl's body rise and fall in a deep, grounding breath. "I am," She tries, once again, her voice slightly firmer. Beca leans forward slightly, anticipating the second part of the sentence. Chloe delivers, with a bashful kind of grin, "What the kids call: _stoned_."

Before she can catch herself; a strangled half-laugh leaves Beca, but she suppresses it quickly, pressing her lips into a thin line. Despite her state, the other girl shoots her a reproving look, albeit still playful; as if she'd _totally_ been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and she was _totally_ okay with it.

Unfortunately, she continues before Beca can start to tease her, "I have the spins."

"Jesus, dude," Beca gestures towards Amy's bed- which was in closer proximity to the redhead than her own, "Sit down,"

Chloe takes her up on the invitation, shuffling over to the bed and collapsing upon it with another heavy sigh. The girl bounces atop the mattress as her force reverberates through it, but she looks as dreamy as if she were riding the magic carpet from Aladdin.

Much like the sophomore _Hammered_ Chloe incident, Beca finds a devious amount of joy in knowing that this moment was something she would be able to hold above the other girl's head forever. "So," She pries juicily, "How did this happen?"

The other girl grunts, shifting her head so that she's no longer face down in the duvet's, muttering out of the corner of her mouth, "Did you know," This must've been the thought the other girl had lost prior to this moment, "One of the Treble's is dating a High Note?"

"I did not," She confesses, shaking her head. Chloe nods her own in response, blue eyes widening slightly, " _Yeah_ ," She says it with specific emphasis. The pause that follows alerts Beca that Chloe may have either forgotten what she was talking about again, or, suffered a marijuana induced social short-circuit that stopped her from properly carrying a conversation, let alone an explanation. _Both,_ was also a very likely outcome.

"So, what happened?" She hedges again. Chloe raises her eyebrows, as though to indicate, _with what?_

Beca is again struck with the feeling of unease that the girl had wandered from one plain to here- in more ways than one.

The idea makes her shudder, but she rolls her shoulders, because clearly, the girl wasn't murdered or otherwise harmed on the way here. "Like," Clarifying, very slowly, "How'd you get stoned?"

Chloe blinks a few times, glossy eyes staring more so _through_ Beca than actually at her, before a long groan sort of escapes her. "I uh, ate, brownies,"

Of course.

The idea of Chloe toking up a joint or a pipe was harder to imagine than it was to see her ingesting some brownies. Edibles are more understandable; _incognito._ Hell, she had just about made that mistake once before in her life, in highschool. She was just lucky enough to have someone warn her before she dove in with both hands. Beca feels the corners of her mouth twitch again; in that moment, it was pretty evident how absolutely wrecked Chloe was. She's actually pretty sure the girl is staring at the wall in front of her more than she is with anything else.

Nonchalantly placing her fist against her mouth to cover her grin, Beca hedges on, "Did you know?"

Chloe shook her head.

"I had one," She says, her voice now conveying a kind of regretful sadness, "and shared another half with Amy,"

Beca gasps unwittingly- the _one_ Treble's party she doesn't attend, and all hell breaks loose.

"Was fine at first," The redhead elaborates, inhaling long and slow, her head lolling around against the mattress, "Then an hour later, I felt it,"

"Were you drinking?" It was a stupid question she knew the answer to. _Obviously_ she was drinking. And, judging by the look Chloe is throwing her through her semi-contorted position on Amy's bed, it only affirms Beca's suspicions.

She snorts, prompting that look to shift into something that almost resembled a glare; but it was ruined by the permanently daft expression plastered on her face, given the situation. Beca mirrors the look half-heartedly, and slowly, the girl's cheeks rise in a kooky kind of grin that could only be associated with someone who's _severely_ cross-faded. The girl begins laughing, quietly at first, as if she's trying to repress it, but failing miserably.

Within Beca; the part of her not being repressed by a headache and period pains is telling her she ought to take care of Chloe in this situation; get her a snack or six and a hefty bottle of water, and then coax her into her own bedroom for the night to let her sleep off the effects.

It takes a few more minutes of biding her time, mentally preparing herself for the process, and all, before she eventually pushes herself to her feet. Her head protests with a throb that rivals what she assumes would be what it's like to be conked on the head with the metal end of a shovel. But, alas, like all heroes she perseveres; helping Chloe to her own two feet is a very gruelling process, and, her mental strength already diminishing, she gives up on the idea of getting the other girl anywhere other than this room. Instead, she guides her gently towards her own bed; knowing full well that if Amy comes home she wouldn't want to relocate Chloe after she'd already been passed out. She then sets Chloe up with her laptop, hoping the girl has enough ability within her to work Netflix as she makes her way tentatively down to the kitchen. Any step that was too hard or too fast sent another teeth-gritting pain through her skull.

When she eventually arrives in the kitchen, she fills the largest water bottle she can find with ice water. Next, she raids the cupboards, grabbing a variety of snacks; bananas, chocolate chip muffins, and then she slathers a bagel with cream cheese, calls it a day. She's painfully aware that Chloe will likely eat everything and that she will get crumbs in Beca's bed, but it's a price she pays for not wanting to deal with a change in room residence.

She returns, just as gradually, to find Chloe sprawled haphazardly across the bed, eyes to the ceiling, as opposed to whatever she had chosen to play on the Netflix screen.

Making her way over to her bed, Beca gently places the foods and drink down against her night stand before prodding Chloe's thigh; her bed was small, and since she was being so generous as to share it, the redhead could not indulge in laying in the middle of it. That would not stand.

Lethargically, Chloe seems to get her point. She scoots into the wall with such extreme slowness, as if her blood had turned to molasses, and Beca sighs, shifting into the covers after her. Her head is pounding again, but she powers through it while she arranges her pillows behind her back for some kind of support, and then does the same for Chloe, after wordlessly working her hand between the girl's shoulder blades and sort of hoisting her up. She obliged, however, folding in the middle and slumping into herself.

Next, Beca rearranged the laptop into the middle of the bed; pained to see the movie of choice was Homeward Bound. She says nothing, however, and hands Chloe both the bagel first and the oversized water bottle. Dazed, Chloe stares at them for a moment, before reaching out with what appeared to be atrocious depth perception as the hand sort of crashes into the bagel before sloppily groping around it, and it makes Beca cringe for both Chloe and her own self, because now there was cream cheese all over the girls hands, and inevitably, it would end up on her sheets somehow. If she weren't sick, she would have the energy to care. But, that's not the case; she feels a bit more like she's accepted the fact of the world's inescapable sun death or global warming. It's here, it's happening, it's coming.

At least it's just Chloe. She has the good sense to know that, if it were almost any of the other Bella's who'd wandered into her bedroom, high as a kite, she wouldn't have the patience to deal with such shenanigans.

Maybe it's because Beca knows that Chloe's guilt once she comes to will be enough to have her practically running circles around Beca, or the fact that Chloe has been her own personal nurse on more than one embarrassing occasion in the past. So, some babysitting was really due. It was the universe evening the odds.

The worst thing, however, was the sound of Chloe's dry-mouth smacking as she tries to chew the bagel- which Beca would like to put a stop to, like, _immediately_. She grabs the water bottle from between them, taking the liberty of pulling up the little straw thingy and pointing it in the redhead's direction.

"Open," She demands, and Chloe pauses abruptly, mid-chew, alarmed. Her eyes widen and her brows furrow as if Beca had just asked her to drop her pants. With a roll of her eyes, Beca proceeds without express permission, nudging the straw part at Chloe's lips, until she hopefully catches Beca's drift.

"I'm chew-" The other girl protests, sounding absolutely scandalized, and Beca closes her eyes.

"I know," She whispers, "You're chewing loudly. It's hurting my head."

There's a pregnant pause, before she feels Chloe fumbling around with the bottle. Only then does Beca open her eyes again, watching as the girl concentrates with her free hand on gripping the base of the bottle and taking a long sip. She gets cream cheese on it, which is disgusting, and makes Beca feel a bit queasy, but she decides against complaining. It was no use, and she'd feel like a jerk if Chloe was incapable of understanding that she's half-joking and takes it personally, instead.  
Afterwards, Chloe resumes her snacking, occasionally humming appreciatively, but every two bites or so, the water bottle process had to be repeated. Beca notes mentally that she would _never_ be choosing to give anyone under any sort of influence a cream cheese bagel ever again.

Once it's done, what feels like twenty minutes later, Beca urges Chloe to clean the cream cheese from her fingers. The girl agrees, awkwardly sticking her fingers into her mouth; which is when Beca decides Homeward Bound was better than the scene in front of her. And then, Chloe shifts, sliding down from her pillow back rest and opting to instead rest her head right against the mattress, one hand slipping under the pillows, the other suddenly clutching Beca's forearm. Stiffening, she gazes down at the girl- steadily, she guesses, the redhead is drifting into unconsciousness.

"I miss Aubrey," Chloe says, her breath warm against Beca's arm.

"Really?" She responds, quirking an eye. She could only imagine the tension if the blonde were in her current-babysitting position. "She'd kill you right now, you know,"

Chloe shakes her head, "No, she'd know it was an accident,"

Beca can grant her that. As much as she liked to paint Aubrey like the villain from her freshman year, she knew that wasn't the truth; the redhead across from her was entirely responsible for her, at times, open-mindedness about that. A part of her still felt petty, though. Yet, she can concede to the idea that after Aubrey's initial freak out, she'd be like, probably the most caring mother-type figure in this situation.

"You're special, Becs," That sort of knocks her over the head a little; the feeling of Chloe's hand squeezing around her arm as she pulls herself closer into Beca's side. It'd been abrupt, and uncalled for- and, most jarringly- a compliment. Beca never knew what to do with those. The context, however, was a little bit blurrier than it usually was when she received one. She flounders, her mouth gaping open and closed like a goldfish. Chloe continues before she can capture her thoughts, however, "I'm glad I have you,"

It's _Hammered_ Chloe talking again- just, under a different circumstance. It's " _I love you Beca. So much. Oh, Jesse, I love you, too,_ " All over again.

Uncertainly, she sort of pats Chloe's head like she's a spaniel, and hopes the girl will drift off soon. She does.

But the words stay with her; like ghosts that hover over and around her, making her feel like there's eyes prying at her skin. Maybe it was the sincerity in which Chloe spoke them- but, that wasn't necessarily new. Chloe Beale was the single most genuine person Beca had ever met up until this point, and, she's pretty sure she will ever meet following the next seventy years of her life. Give or take. So, being this earnest person, Chloe had expressed her appreciation of Beca on more than one occasion, often out of the blue. She _should_ be used to it by now, but she's not. Every time she isn't sure how to respond.

Which is, admittedly, a reoccurring problem in Beca's life. Even as a child, her mother expressing love to her made her feel uncomfortable- hugs made her squirm, and those moments where her mom would try to wrap her in an embrace while watching the Lion King made Beca feel like the walls were closing in on her.

The first time Jesse had said, " _I love you_ ", Beca had froze, blacked out for a span of about ten seconds, her blood pressure probably rose dangerously, and the only thing she could come up with in response was a manic sort of laugh, as she rose her hand into the air, and declared, "Up top, dude!"

Poor Jesse hadn't even realized that that was a panicked reaction, and returned a crisp high five to her. It had eaten Beca alive for about three months, until one day, she built up the courage to tell him back. Because she _did_ love Jesse, he was wonderful, and had quietly understood her for years now. Mostly, though, she told him because she didn't want him to feel bad. Being in love with Jesse seemed like a huge commitment. So, she wasn't rushing anything. Maybe that's why four years later she's still in the Bella house and he's still renting a dorm room and they haven't even begun to talk about what comes after.

The personal space thing, she'd gotten a bit better with. It was something you learn to accommodate when living with a bunch of brash women who still believe in dog piles, and have no problem using physicality to get a point across (such as dragging one from their bed), or helping one another with dance steps. The biggest offender in the _Beca Personal Bubble_ , however, was the redhead beside her.

Beca reflects on this thought a lot, whenever Chloe does something- like fall asleep with a hand on Beca's arm- that would have made Beca uncomfortable in the past. And, maybe Chloe audaciously bursting into her shower the second time they met broke down some of those barriers for her. Chloe had forced herself in, more and more absurdly as she informed Beca that Titanium was her _lady jam_ \- something that no others had ever discussed with her, _ever_ , and thank God for that- forced Beca to sing it with her. And, to not be forgotten, the junk that refused to be covered. Yeah, Chloe was confident about ' _all that_ ', and she hasn't really given Beca a reason to forget that a day since. Chloe was one of a kind.

So, she'd wormed her way in. For God's sakes, they'd seen each other naked right off the get-go, so, maybe that's why they skipped all the other awkward parts. Why she resigned to being a bit more open with the redhead, because, hey, _meet me nude in the shower and force me to sing with you?_ It's probably illegal, but damn it, Chloe had done it anyway in the spirit of keeping acapella alive.

And it's like Chloe knows it; her ability to slip in a bit easier. And she, occasionally, uses it to her advantage.

And Beca's pretty sure she doesn't mind.

Four years ago, this would be a daunting thought. There was a reason she worked on building up her walls, and she would not want them crumbling so easy. What kind of shitty architect was she? Yet, here she was. Sometimes, it still panicked her. Even more so lately, as the Bella's rolled into their senior year and Beca was forced to think about how her ' _real life_ ' was around the corner, and maybe this was something like a fever dream, because her walls had helped her up until this point- and what if without the Bella's around to start chipping away at her brickwork she needed those walls to keep her safe again?

Right now, however, Chloe was asleep beside her, Homeward Bound was on, and Beca wasn't sure what time it was but she feels like she can hear another few Bella's stumbling around downstairs. And so she, too, lets herself relax and allows sleep to come for her. She'd have more time to worry in the morning.

Right now was okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we are! A bit of a storybuilding chapter here, getting into some of Beca's psyches ;) Next chapter we'll be looking at Chloe, and don't worry, there will be some friendly collegiate petting sessions soon enough! Let me know your thoughts!**

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The morning finds Beca early, and bright. The unfortunate consequence of falling asleep and forgetting to pull her blinds shut the evening before; the only window in the room-turned-attic that happens to be exactly at her bed level. She has many woes; this is one of them.

And then there's Chloe; back to the window, thus blocking out a gracious- what Beca would estimate- seventy five percent of the light. Her mouth ajar, amidst an extreme black-out sleep that only follows a trip down ultra-faded lane. However, the red-head's bed hogging quality is something that Beca had forgotten. No matter how kind, how selfless of a person someone may be during waking hours, that rule no longer applies once they fall asleep. Even the most charitable people turn into _sprawling-across-as-much-of-the-bed-as-they-can, white-knuckling-the-blankets-into-only-themselves_ little bastards. Hence, Chloe. Across from her, in REM Sleep mode, somehow acquiring most of Beca's covers on the side of the bed she was inhabiting, and taking up as much space as she possibly could.

With a grimace, Beca tentatively readjusts her hands against the mattress; attempting to leverage herself up with the least amount of movement against the bed as possible. Swinging one leg out from under her, dropping it to the floor, and then proceeding with the next, she re-evaluates the bed scene from a new angle; she'd been forced into a sliver of space all night long. And, while the thumping in the back of her temples is no more, nor are her cramps- thank _God_ \- there's a stiffness in her neck that could only be accomplished by sleeping on it unnaturally.

Exhaling through her nose, she plucks the remaining food items and phone she had left on her night stand into her arms, and advances towards the staircase. Past Amy's bed which is- oh sweet irony- empty.

The silence in the Bella house, even downstairs, informs her that she's the only one awake. A rare occurence. Assuming, however, that she only has the energy to get up and function at this time of the morning because she spent half of yesterday asleep, and another quarter of it resting. Her first official act of the morning is to start the coffee. Pressing the button down on the top of the brewing machine, the little blue light alerting her that it needs to be cleaned. It's been on for the last three days, but no one has bothered to do it yet, and today wouldn't be the day Beca decides to.

As the grinder comes to life within it, Beca turns away from the machine, grabbing her phone in her hands instead. Pressing the top button down until the screen starts up, Beca sets it back down as she hovers towards the cupboards with the mugs, the thoughts and responsibilities of today beginning to whir themselves conscious inside her mind. On Friday's she only had one class, at one o'clock, and then she had to be at Residual Heat by three thirty. Which, of course, was top secret; after the Bella's misadventures with Muff-Gate, Beca simply didn't have the energy in her to break it to the group of girls. And it wasn't as if she was purposefully avoiding it- there just hadn't been a right time. Between the stress of DSM, and the need to compete for World's, the year just wasn't off to a good start. And while there was a tickling, persistent itch of guilt between every crease of her brain, worming it's way into the grey matter as a palpable creature- Beca has no plans of admitting it anytime soon.  
So, okay, yeah; _maybe_ she was avoiding it. Actively. But, it was for the good of the others. That's justifiable, right? Her loyalty thus far has been completely unwavering, generally stoic, if not sometimes a little bit misguided. And she couldn't just ignore the impending graduation date. She had to get her act together. Take herself seriously, or, as seriously as she could. Hell, Chloe had urged her on more than one occasion to just " _give yourself a chance!_ " with sometimes, a vigorous shake of the shoulders for emphasis. So, that's what she was doing. Or _trying_ to do.

Mostly, Beca sort of felt like she was sticking her head into an oven, but that's okay. She's getting there. Maybe.

Her phone vibrating to life on the counter snaps her out of her reverie, and she returns to it, mug in hand. The little messaging icon signals her to a whopping forty seven missed text messages; thirty eight from Jesse, one from Chloe, five from Amy, and three from Stacie.

"Jesus," She mutters to herself, opening each chain, vaguely checking each one to make sure nothing stuck out as urgent- which, of course, none did.

Opening the chain from Jesse last- which, by the end of which had deteriorated into nothing more than whiny spam.

unamused, Beca taps out a message;

 _I hear one of you Treble's is dating a High Note._

She sends it, watching as the green bubble floats up into the message chain- the feeling of dissatisfaction like a rock in the bottom of her gut.

 _And you poisoned some of my Bella's._

Better.

The coffee pot clicks off automatically, and Beca abandons her phone in favour of the caffeine. Anyways, considering it wasn't even quite eight o'clock yet, Beca could assume the guy wouldn't be up for a while yet. Knowing Jesse, he's hungover with his head under his pillow, and he will remain that way until about twenty five minutes before his first class. Just enough time for him to have a brisk, cold shower, throw on some sweatpants and a dorky T-Shirt, and grab a granola bar for the road.

"Coffee?" Beca jumps at the sudden sound of a voice, just about dropping the pot just as quickly as she grasped it.

With a bit of a squeak, she reels around to face the unannounced perpetrator in the kitchen; Jessica. Looking dishevelled and in a moderately rough condition, although, she was composed well. Beca lets out a puff of air from her cheeks, turning back to her mug, "Yeah,"

Pouring the brew, she see's the blonde moving towards the mug cupboard in her periphery. "Thank God," The girl mutters, shuffling beside her. Nonchalantly, Beca hands her the pot.

"How was the party?" Reaching for the sugar, Beca opens up the mason jar, using the spoon inside it to scoop up a small amount, before dropping it into her the mug and stirring. Beside her, Jessica sets the pot back onto the machine, letting out a small grunt, "Good. Well," At that, she throws Beca a conspicuous look from the side of her eye, one eyebrow furrowing inwards uncertainly. Beca could tell it was the ' _I don't know if you heard'_ look. Jessica had always had the good sense to be bashful about things that some of the other girls were more brazen about. Beca catches the look with a singular nod, "The pot brownies?" She assumes, one hand coming to rest on the arm of the fridge.

Jessica grabs the sugar spoon, sliding the jar towards herself, "Yeah," She says slowly, throwing Beca a pained look over her shoulder.

"Was Chloe not the only one who made a mistake last night?" Her heart sings at the first opportunity to tease the redhead, albeit without her knowledge, about her unfortunate situation. And though her tone is serious, she's being just as playful towards the blonde. As she pulls the milk from the fridge, she hears Jessica snort in amusement, "No. Not me, but," The girl sighs heavily, dumping her third spoonful into her coffee, before whirling the drink around with it, "Let's just say I had to lead a gaggle of girls back here."

Beca feels her mouth fall open, "Like who?"

By some universal cue, a certain redhead appears around the doorframe of the kitchen. Nose scrunched up against the morning light, and her hair tussled, yet still, Beca feels both a pang of admiration and envy when she still somehow manages to look like she hasn't missed a day of her vitamins since she was born. Beca, she assumes, must look like a troll in comparison.

Ignoring that little flutter of a thought, Beca places one hand against her hip and observes the girl without even attempting to reign in her smirk. "Oh, hello, you," And she makes sure it's sickeningly casual. Chloe's sleep-addled gaze back at her reveals nothing other than utter confusion. In fact, she actually kind of looks like she has just risen from the dead, only to wander back into the Bella household with no recollection of who she was, or who they all were.

Other than that last bit, Beca can guess that it must be a pretty similar feeling to what Chloe was actually experiencing.

"Hi," She responds, blue eyes darting back and forth between the two women before her. After that moment seems to stretch out, as both Jessica and Beca stare her down with varying degrees of mirth at her expense, the redhead clears her throat, "How was your guys' night?" At least Beca can give her (pot?) brownie points for trying to scoot around the topic.

Raising a solitary eyebrow, Beca turns back to her coffee, uncapping the jug of milk with a pointed kind of nonchalance that she hopes make Chloe squirm.

Because Beca can trust that the redhead must obviously sense something askew- it was hard to say just how much memory the other girl had of the previous evening, but if waking up in Beca's room with little to no recollection how she got there wasn't enough to tip her off, Beca would make sure she pointed that out. The best way to do that? Utter, belligerent, good-old-fashioned smug rubbing it in one's face. "Well, mine was fine," Beca sighs, adding a dash of the milk to her coffee before offering it to Jessica, who takes it with a sly grin of her own. "But then," She adds, grasping the mug in her palms and spinning on heel to observe the other woman again. Chloe remains in the doorway, a small frown creasing across her face, as she can so clearly see the direction this is going. "Funny thing, though, one of the Bella's- who shall remain nameless," Beca raises one hand up, mocking a vow of pledged silence, "Comes stumbling up to my bedroom."

Chloe doesn't often blush. She can flirt- with mind boggling ease and brashness- and remain completely unswayed. She can make a heaping fool of herself- both when she's inebriated and sober, whether it be busting a move in an inopportune public setting, or singing purposefully off key for the sake of a few laughs. She can even confidently preform a task, and have it metaphorically- and at one time literally- blow up in her face, and Chloe Beale will take it with grace.

But sometimes, very rarely, she will blush- it's often the result of something she had done while drunk that she was later informed about. See; _nursing a tequila bottle while on the floor of the Bella's kitchen,_ for more details.

This is one of those moments and Beca laps it up like a stray cat. It's there, just barely, but the tiny pink hue is more than enough for Beca. She takes a moment to bite down on her bottom lip in order to stop her smile from spreading over her cheeks, gather herself. Behind her, Jessica shifts back towards the fridge, returning the milk to it's proper shelf. Straightening up, Beca sighs again, for nothing more than dramatic effect. "So, I, being of sound mind, assisted said Bella with getting into bed and staying out of trouble, because," She emphasizes the last word, holding one finger out in front of her, indicating for her audience to give her a moment. Chloe blows air out of her lips, head dropping to the floor shamefully; the very image of a puppy that knows it has done wrong and is now being chastised for it. Beca blows over the hot coffee, before taking a miniscule sip, preparing herself for the final punchline of the story. "Said Bella was currently cross-faded _out of this world_."

Chloe wrinkles her nose at that, nodding more to herself than to either of the other girls in the kitchen. Now that Beca was finished mildly mortifying the other girl, she lets the smile sneak out, soaking up the moment.

"I remember," Chloe starts, shaking her head now, "Those stupid brownies,"

"You weren't alone," Jessica consoles, although not without her voice still thick with amusement. "About a third of you guys had one before anybody clued in,"

"Which brings me back to my earlier question," Beca swivels her head to look at the blonde, just as Chloe finds the ability to walk again and brushes past her on the way to the kettle. "Who?"

Jessica sighs, sticking her free hand into a fist in front of her, individually releasing a finger as she recites. "Chloe," Giving the girl a sidelong glance, and the redhead acknowledges it with a sheepish peek over her shoulder, "Stacie, Amy, and Flo."

Beca wonders if it's some sort of pattern that the ones who are hardest to control once intoxicated were also the ones prone to stuffing their face with chocolatey sweets the moment they laid their eyes on them. She feels like there must be some sort of connection there, which she considers pointing out, before simply nodding her head with nothing more than a thoughtful hum. "Well," She says, pausing with her mug in front of her mouth, "Did anyone throw up?"

Because she's been to parties- she's even been to more than one _questionable_ shindig in her lifespan. Although, every one of those situations had occurred during her highschool career; but, whatever. She knew enough to know that mixing your poisons has a high chance of not ending well- she'd seen it first hand.

Jessica purses her lips, shaking her head, "Nope. Thank God."

Beca shrugs, given the odds, that was pretty impressive. "Job well done, then,"

* * *

The afternoon meandered by lazily. By the time she had completed her class of the day, she was beginning to feel some of her energy draining from her body. And by the time she had parked outside of Residual Heat, Beca decided she may need to make another coffee for herself; just as a pick-me-up. Usually, she didn't like having more than one in a day; she was prone to getting the shakes if she accidentally over-caffinates herself, but, she supposed today could be an exception.

After all, she'd be spending the next five hours being a snack-donkey, which wasn't hard work, but it was a bit mentally vexing. But, as she scrubbed toilets between her rounds, she reminded herself that this is what it takes to start getting your foot in the door. Beca Mitchell didn't make it this far to be discouraged because only one person maybe sort of knew her name, and her nightly tasks consisted of brewing hipster forms of coffee, delivering Cheeto bags, and replacing paper towel rolls. She could deal with that. She could wait for her opening. _It isn't going to be this forever_ , she chanted to herself, cleaning that shelf in the fridge that always had sriracha spilled over it. Like, _always_. She could probably check again in another hour and the stain would be steadily building, making this a bit of a fruitless effort, but it had to be done.

It's about two hours into her shift before Beca hides away in one of the bathroom stalls. After taking another round between the desks, making sure none of the people _actually_ doing work needed any snack replacements or anything.

Huffing, she puts the lid down on the toilet, taking a seat atop of it and fishing her phone from her back pocket. Ever since her second day, she'd kept her phone on _Do Not Disturb_ mode during her hours here. This was borne after witnessing Sammy lose his mind when Dax's phone had vibrated during one of his speeches. And Beca, being intimidated by people who are, you know, _her boss,_ had thanked whoever above might be listening that it hadn't been her, and vowed to keep her phone completely silent from that day on. She's pretty sure had it been her, Sammy would have fired her on the spot. Which would be pretty humiliating considering Sammy _definitely_ didn't even know her name.

So, she'd also resigned that she would keep the phone out of sight, just in case. Which is why she's currently squirrelled away in a stall to check her messages.

She checks her chain with Jesse first.

 _Becaw_

 _can u do me a big favour and buy me some milk after work? I will pay u back 3_

 _nvm Benji got some_

 _Becawwww Chloe called me askin where u are. had 2 improvise and say u were in the shower_

Not good. It confronts her with the fact that she couldn't hide this forever, and she had to start planning an announcement, or something.

Scratching the bridge of her nose as she considers how to respond, Beca lets the thumb on her free hand hover over the screen for a few moments.

 _thanks. I'm working on it_.

It felt like there was a big, obvious void in her words. Like some unknown entity was snickering at her, crowing about how Beca isn't doing _crap_ to work on it. Which is true, mostly. But she was _working on_ working on it, so she hits send anyway. Next, she opens up her chain with Chloe, where an additional two messages are waiting for her.

 _Becs where are you? :)_

 _If you're at Jesse's let me know! We're heading to the pumpkin place in a while to pick up those seasonal necessities ;) And I know you wanna come._

It was a tease, because, Chloe knows, that Beca hates participating in anything festive for Halloween; or even Christmas, for that matter. But every year, the Bella's still managed to sucker her in for their annual pumpkin picking tradition. Where Chloe spearheads a group of them into stuffing their cars full of the things- like, seriously, close to a hundred dollars worth- and from October first until thirty first, the Bella's spend their time carving out Jack O' Lanterns to sit around their front yard.

There's a lot of things the Bella's are good at. And, one of those things, is their inability to tone down their holiday spirit. Around Halloween, Beca could at least sulk with Cynthia Rose and Ashley, the only other two not overly enthused by the holiday. _Christmas,_ however, was a different story.

Running her tongue over her bottom lip, she considers not even replying; later, when questioned, she could just claim her phone died. No harm in that. Despite the fact that lying to Chloe made her stomach turn on itself, and keeping the internship a secret was bad enough. But the idea of ignoring _and_ lying to Chloe made her feel like she ought to be wearing a big neon sign on her head that read ' _World's Biggest Jerk'._ Complete with bells and whistles.

So, after staring at those messages for a long moment, she lets a heavy exhale out through her nose.

 _Sorry, Chlo. Can't make it tonight._

And then, with what felt like physical pain, she added;

 _Make sure you grab me one, k?_

It had to do. For now. But as she watched the bubbles send, her stomach rocked back and forth uneasily. By habit, she slides her phone safely back into her pocket, and flicks out her wrists a few times, as though it would somehow clear the lingering residue of guilt from her thoughts- as if the phone had actually burned her. Burned her with the dirty feeling of lying. Just as quickly, however, Beca realizes what she's doing and stills herself, straightening her back instead and balling her hands into fists. It was a nervous tick of hers; the movement of her wrists. Beca didn't enjoy letting herself get away with them because, naturally, people would begin to pick up on them. If Jesse- or Chloe, for that matter- were here right now they'd probably be eyeing her hands quizzically, before turning that look to bore a hole right through Beca. And, since those looks always made Beca feel like she wanted to dig herself a grave and then bury herself alive, she tried to suppress such habits. Which was actually, most likely counterproductive, because she would just form a different one in it's place. By now, she probably has more nervous ticks than a junkie. And every single one planted a target on her for receiving one of said looks.

* * *

Beca pulled into the Bella house to find, unsurprisingly, a dump of various pumpkins scattered over the front doorsteps and lawn. The girls had outdone themselves- again. She took a moment to regard them, with a resigned sort of dissonance that only Halloween brought her. She wanted to be happy about it. She wanted to enjoy the holiday season, like any semi-normal person, and be festive and find a joy in stabbing a pumpkin repeatedly until a face-like image appeared on it, like a semi-normal person. Or less than, but, it was totally cool because it was Halloween, right? Anyway. She wanted to be somewhat sort of excited about it, at the very least.

But she wasn't. Instead, pictures of pumpkins glowing with spooky frights brought her nothing but a resentful heaviness that appeared first in her temples, and then somewhere deep within her chest. And Beca hated that just as much. She was never much of a person for letting go- hell, she could probably recall every slight upwards of third grade if she tried hard enough- but she wished she could. Because maybe then she could function a little bit better. Wouldn't be so tense. Maybe then, she could resort back to the childhood version of herself who was excited for Halloween; the kid who spent the season with her head in the Tupperware bins that were full of old costumes and fake spiderwebs. That kid was excited for Halloween. That kid got _candy_ on Halloween.

Who was she now?

She definitely wouldn't be getting candy if she showed up on the majority of people's doorsteps, that's for sure. Which is a bummer all in itself.

It takes a little bit longer than normal to enter the house; partly because she was trying to avoid accidentally, or not so accidentally, kicking a pumpkin on her journey to the front door. And partly because she was mentally preparing herself for the questions about how Jesse's had been, or what she'd done; just, basically formulate a semi-coherent lie and escape to her bedroom before she could get caught in it. No biggie. She's done it a few times now, but every time it made her gut twist like some evil little creature, let's say a goblin, what the hell- was in the base of her stomach, punching her intestines until she felt nauseous. And yeah, she knows that's most likely anatomically incorrect, but, whatever.  
Inhaling deeply through her nose, Beca pushes open the front door- thankful that the kitchen is currently unresided. However, from the living room, she could definitely make out a tune, and the voices of Amy and Chloe singing to it. She takes a moment to hang up her coat and keys in the foyer, before continuing onwards, allowing the sound to pull her feet in its direction.  
The scene that greets her involves Stacie sitting on the arm of the couch, cheering, while Flo and Cynthia Rose occupy the space on the sofa, dancing on the spot and clapping along with the tune being played. There are several boxes haphazardly placed throughout the room, all labelled ' _Halloween'_. Amy and Chloe, however, are on their feet, backs to her, holding microphones inches from their respective faces and belting out the words of The Spice Girls' _Stop_ , while two poorly animated characters on the television screen confirmed Beca's deepest fears.  
They had found the Wii karaoke Beca had braved the basement to hide last year.

"What am I looking at?" Allowing the strap of her bag to slip through her fingers, Beca sighs. While the two performing pay her no mind, the three situated on the couch shift their attention towards their captain. Stacies purses her lips, folding two long, nimble arms over her bust, "There's the culprit," She crows, giving Beca an outrageously disgusted once-over that manages to genuinely ruffle the shorter girls feathers. Beca's eyebrows hike towards her hairline; it was very clear, and _unbelievable_ , how the rediscovery of a Wii game had broken some kind of trust they had established here. "Excuse me?" She reprimands, shooting the brunette the dirtiest of her glares.

The song comes to an end, as Chloe and Amy's on-screen characters finish their duet, and a just as poorly animated Simon Cowell, Britney Spears, and some third commentator begin their dissection of the concert. Amy, looking winded, collapses in the armchair while Chloe turns on heel, the permanently content look on her face observing Beca before bursting into a smile, "Becs, you're home,"

"And being insulted," She throws an accusatory finger in Stacie's direction, who only rolls her eyes in return.

Chloe tuts lightly, baby blues darting between the two girls, as her fingers tap out an unheard rhythm against the base of the microphone she now held tucked against her stomach. "Well, Beca," She starts, roving her eyes back in Beca's direction and holding her there, "We know you hid Karaoke Star in the basement,"

Affronted, despite the statement's truth, Beca inhales sharply, "I did not."

Chloe tips her chin downwards, an entirely unconvinced glint behind her eyes, "Really?"

Breaking eye contact, Beca feels a flush rise in her cheeks, as she attempts to look anywhere but at the quiet judge across from her. The redhead had a very special skill- one of many, actually- that could be summed up by her superior social skills. Something that made confession an inevitability instead of a struggle. As if lying to her, in any way, shape, or form, was an utmost sin. This was even despite Beca's admittedly stubborn pride.

Said pride in her chest trickles out slightly, before she manages to shoot the girl a weak glower from the corner of her eye. "Okay," She admits, causing the room to erupt in a chorus of hums and huhs- all of which gloating with the sound of " _I knew it_ ". Fumbling, Beca adds quickly, "It was for the good of the Bella's!"

"Is that so?" Cynthia Rose's husky voice cuts through the room, and Beca baulks at her next.

"Yes, actually," Beca grips around the strap of her bag more, itching to leave the room, "Because if I was forced to partake or listen to it for a day longer, I would have lost my mind,"

"Trial by song," Amy hollers from her seat on the armchair- looking very much like an evil dictator observing her peasants. She then adds to that image by pulling her arm back, and tossing the microphone she held in her hands at Beca's feet. With an objection, Beca steps away from it, feeling downright assaulted here in her own home. She vaguely catches Chloe scold Amy for throwing their Wii equipment around all willy-nilly, before the redhead bends to collect the microphone from the carpet.

Unconcerned, Amy throws her arms out at her sides, "Do we not agree?"

"I agree," Cynthia Rose voices, followed by Stacie's firm, but smug, "Me too." Beside them, Flo simply nods, as though she isn't entirely sure what was transgressing or why the others were so mad about it, but she didn't want to be on the receiving end of the Bella hate-fire that Beca was currently being scorched with.

Chloe tips her head towards Beca, a devious smirk playing against her features, "Looks like the jury has spoken." Throwing a wink in there, too, as if she hadn't already been rubbing it in enough.

"Why is this happening to me?" Beca throws her arms across her chest, refusing to take the microphone from Chloe's hands as she offers it to her.

"Because," The redhead's voice is stern, as she reaches out to take Beca's hand in the few free fingers she had, "You made a bad decision and now you must deal with the consequences," And gently transfers the microphone within her own palm, guiding Beca's fingers around the base of the stupid thing. Fate: Sealed.  
It was mutiny, if she'd ever seen it.

"Unbelievable," She voices testily, clutching the faux stage equipment in her hands. There wasn't enough time to throw a look that could possibly portray the amount of distaste she currently felt for each girl currently occupying the same space. Instead, she scans the room around her, searching for a way out. But some rational, experienced part of her brain reminds her that any which way she chooses to run, the outcome was more than likely to be a football tackle into the carpet. And that was not necessarily something Beca wants to relive.

Chloe hums approvingly, grabbing the regular Wii remote from the coffee table and scrolling through the possible song list. "Any suggestions?" She quips, casting a look over her shoulder at the girls assembled. Beca makes sure to put on her best scowl when Chloe's blues meet her own, and the redheaded little _devil_ just grins in response.

"Make her sing Allstar by Smashmouth," Amy puts in, leaning forwards in the armchair. Spinning on heel, Beca, feeling more personally attacked than ever, flips the Tasmanian the bird. Behind her, Stacie catcalls, and she turns said offending appendage in the brunette's direction.

"Ouch," Stacie leans backwards slightly, "Why so vicious today, Becs?"

It was a legitimate question. While freshman Beca had been easy to lose her temper, over the years, senior Beca had grown more readily able to keep a lid on most outbursts. Actually, she'd managed to tame herself so much that half of the things that probably would have sent the younger version of herself over the deep-end no longer had that affect on her. Maybe it was because she'd grown accustomed to the girls around her- she'd forcibly had to work on her own social skills, what with living with a dozen or so girls, and somehow, the title of ' _Captain_ ' slapped on her chest. Or, co-captain, but, whatever.

The fact is, on a different occasion, she would have taken the medicine that was currently being handed to her with a moderate amount of grace. But it was October first; which meant things slid under her skin a little bit easier from here on out in the year. From the corner of her eye, Beca see's Chloe's face drop. The amusement slipping away into a frown of worry, which somehow only irks Beca further. Even though it shouldn't, and Beca knows that very well. The same way she knows eating chocolate past eleven pm will keep her awake a bit longer than she usually would be, but she eats it anyway- or the way almost anything by The Rolling Stones fills her with a truly astonishing momentary amount of rage, before she white knuckles herself down.

"I don't know!" She snaps back, averting her eyes from Chloe's pitiful peek in her direction and training on Stacie instead. At the tone, Stacie shrinks, and she watches as Cynthia Rose and Flo share an uncertain look between the two of them. "Can we get this over with? I'd like to go to my room, you know, take a shower,"

"I thought you showered at Jesse's?" Chloe queries; but the question is quick, and there is a thread of uncertainty in her voice. That inflection in her statement is something Beca catches onto immediately; when Chloe is sometimes taken aback, or suddenly and severely baffled by something, she had a tendency to inquire out loud. It was usually harmless, and to herself, but Beca still bristles- caught in the sticky tracks of her own lie.

And then Chloe is looking her over as though she's just now realizing how much Beca doesn't look like she showered. Because, you know, _she hasn't_.

"I-" Beca starts, feeling her heart race a bit faster under the look, "uh, whatever- I want to relax, and not be _here_ , currently,"

It's a bit harsh.

Chloe pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and Beca can almost see the kicked-puppy suddenly standing in the girls place. Clenching her jaw, Beca casts her eyes downwards. The carpet was a much better place to train her eyes than on the girl across from her, because that would mean she would have to acknowledge the fact that she totally just hurt Chloe's feelings a little bit. Which she hates. Whenever she lashes out, she hardly ever means to. But, Jesse had once compared her to a cornered pygmy ferret when she gets mad; which she had at first deemed as very rude, and Jesse had gotten an earful for correlating her with a stinky rodent. He had just laughed, though. And, the more Beca thought about it, the more reputable the comparison became. It was true. Whenever she did act out, she could pretty much envision being poked at with a stick through the slits in her poorly-constructed metal cage that was _supposed_ to be protecting her.

"Allstar by Smashmouth it is," Amy concludes, her voice cutting through the silence that had so tensely settled over the room. Beca nods, mustering the strength to calm that inopportune ferret squealing somewhere within her psyches.

"Yeah," It's quiet, but she agrees regardless; the hand not currently holding the microphone jerking outwards in an uncomfortable half-gesture half-nervous-wreck-movement in Chloe's direction, "Put it on, maestro,"

* * *

It's just over an hour following her departure from the living room, where she had finished her punishment while pouting, giving a bow, and handing the mic back to Chloe. They might have played one more round before departing; the mood a little bit soiled after Beca's less than friendly encounter. But, Amy was at least providing her some space by not coming up to the shared bedroom, which Beca could at least appreciate because she did, indeed, need some alone time to re-centre herself.

At first, she'd opened up her laptop and fastened the oversize headphones atop her head. She wasn't working on a Bella mix, though, instead just something to store away in a folder of other randoms. But the sounds felt sporadic, and she'd given up not twenty minutes later- her frustration finally overwhelming her enough to close the screen of the computer with more force than necessary. Wincing, she unplugs the headphones from the jack of the computer and replaces it into her phone, shuffling her music library as she relocates back to her bed. Where she lay now, her blood pressure finally lowering enough for her to begin to feel sleepy, lost in a sea of sound, when her phone vibrates against her stomach.

Opening one eye, she inspects the phone, debating whether or not to even bother checking. But, it's probably only around eight thirty, so disturbing her sleepiness is for the best. Sitting up against her bed-frame, Beca takes a moment to rub the sleep from the corner of her eyes before turning the phone over in her hands and checking her messages.

Chloe's name sits boldly on the top of her queue.

 _Hey Grumplestiltskin ;)_

She narrows her eyes at the screen.

 _hey yourself, High Roller_

Because what was the point of soaking up moments like the one the night before if she couldn't relentlessly bug the other girl with it?

The response is almost immediate.

 _That was an accident :(_

Beca feels the grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, even over the phone she could see the miffed little pout the other girl must be sporting at being called out.

 _but was it really?_

 _Of course it was!_

With her free hand, Beca absently grabs her lip between her thumb and forefinger. Texting was usually a safe space. Beca can articulate better, think her words through for once, not stutter.

 _mhmm, okay. I'm not really buying it, but sure_

 _You shit._

At that, Beca exhales a bit of laughter- you know, the true equivalent of _LOL'ing_. The follow up message jumps onto screen before Beca can respond, however.

 _Can I come up?_

She straightens a little, staring at the request blankly. Of course Chloe could; aside from their shower encounter all those years ago, Beca rarely found herself minding when the other girl invaded her personal space. What was stopping Beca, though, was that she was unsure whether Chloe was going to treat her to some mushy conversation about the time of the year. But, declining the request would probably come off even more worrisome to the older girl than an awkward console session that consisted of Chloe being kind and lovely and, Beca, stiff as a board, being totally unresponsive.

 _are you going to try to fight me for making fun of you?_

Jokes, Beca has found over the years, are always a great for diffusing situations.

T _ry? Becs, I think we both know that I would kick you're cute little butt ;)_

Insulted, Beca scowls at that- although, it was true. If there was ever a wager between the Bellas on which member of Bhloe would come out of the brawl victorious, Beca could bet- begrudgingly- that everyone's money would be on Chloe. Except, maybe, Chloe herself; she'd bet on Beca mostly because she felt bad. She'd probably say something about loving a good underdog story. And Cynthia Rose, because she just doesn't roll that way anymore.

Blinking, she shakes her head of that fabrication- ashamed that she was even a little bit entertained by the idea. Seriously, what was wrong with her?

 _don't be so cocky. i know you love an underdog story_

A full thirty seconds pass before the reply comes in.

 _Touche. But that would mean I let you win ;)_

 _offended._

The response to that comes in a flurry of kissy face emojis, hearts, and then a single strong arm finishing off the message. Beca rolls her eyes; she never knows how to respond when someone only sends a string of emojis. Those aren't words, after all. So, she turns off the screen and removes the headphones, choosing to sling them around her neck for now. Before it dawns on her.  
 _I guess you can come up. I mean, you already barged in here last night without warning, so nothings really stopping you, is there?_

Which, actually, reminds Beca that she ought to change her sheets. Cream cheese scum was probably plastered all over the bedspread. Which was _aca-appalling,_ in all truth. Setting the phone against the night stand, she grimaces, hoisting herself upwards and immediately bunching the duvet into a ball and tossing it into a corner of the room. As she's reaching outwards for the pillow on the far side of the bed, the phone vibrates noisily where it sits.

 _:( Sorry Becs_

With her free hand, Beca half-heartedly flings the pillow around- trying to wriggle it from it's case without having to put two hands into the effort. Raking her mind for an appropriate, playful response- albeit still milking the situation for all that it's worth- Beca furrows her brow at her screen, coming up short. Maybe she'd exceeded her quota about the topic for the day. Although, even she found _that_ highly unlikely. But, to her disappointment, she was blanking.

"Hey,"

With a start, Beca whirls around- the very same redheaded offender who had arrived at the top of her stairs the evening before now reappearing. The jolt causes the pillow to fall from it's covers, and Chloe's blue eyes dart towards it momentarily, before meeting Beca's again with a small grin. "Sorry if I scared you,"

"Oh, uh," Catching her breath, Beca shakes her head, balling up the flimsy white pillowcase in her hands and tossing it in the same direction of the duvet, "No, no, you just, uh, startled me a little. I didn't hear you coming,"

Looking only mildly self-satisfied, Chloe drifts further into the bedroom; pulling Beca's desk chair out and spinning it around to face her, just as she reached for the remaining pillow. "I'll try to remember to announce myself from now on when I'm halfway up the stairs,"

Moving a hand to her chest, Beca feigns her ardent appreciation, "That's so considerate, Chlo,"

An airy laugh escapes the other girl, while Beca returns her focus on baring the pillow, which she had resigned to using both hands to do, now that she didn't really need to text. "Yeah," Chloe says, thoughtfully, "I wouldn't want to walk in on you naked or anything,"

" _Dude_ ," Beca Mitchell, unlike Chloe, has a penchant for blushing. She can usually feel it first in her ears, which is exactly the area she can feel warmth spreading to. It was something more than one of the Bella's enjoyed pulling from her; a blush. The more violently red they can make her, the better- the bunch of sadists they were. And Chloe, ever so triumphant, bats her lashes innocently at the brunette across from her. Beca glares, "We've already been there."

See; _freshman year shower scene._

Chloe sighs, almost wistful. Chucking the second pillowcase to join the others, Beca quirks an eyebrow at the other girl- "Anybody home? Or are you thinking about infiltrating some poor freshman's shower?"

The redhead shoots her a rather reproving look in response, smoothing the legs of her pyjama sweatpants absently, "No. I was thinking," She says, one eyebrow rising in a silent challenge for Beca to poke fun at her again, "About how different things might be if I hadn't barged in on you in the showers,"

"Ah," Mushy. Not really Beca's forte. She'd be lying if she said it had never crossed her mind; not only for the Bellas as a whole, but herself individually-she didn't like to dwell on it. Honestly, it made her shifty. "Don't get all nostalgic on me, Beale,"

She turns at that, pulling a corner of her sheet out from between the mattress and the boxspring. Behind her, Chloe hums warmly. It isn't until Beca is on the third corner of the bed; prying the sheet out from the top corner against the wall, that the girl speaks again, "So, anyways, I have a question for you,"

Curious, Beca casts a look at the girl over her shoulder; finally working the sheet free, "A question?"

Chloe nods, her blue eyes sparking with excitement, "Yes."

"What is it?" Beca heads towards the final corner of the bed, the idea that Chloe may be about to inquire to whether or not she said or did anything particularly mortifying crossing her mind. To herself, Beca smirks; if that was the case, she should start thinking up some completely fake lines she could inform the other girl that she'd " _said"_. Of course, she would tell Chloe immediately after that she was only kidding, and that nothing of that sort happened, because despite what some might think; Beca Mitchell wasn't a _total_ asshat.

"Well," Chloe starts, sitting up straighter against the chair and promptly folding her hands across her knees, "My uncle has this thing,"

It was only a minor disappointment about the direction of conversation. Beca pulls the last corner off, and discards sheet into the pile with everything else, stooping down to scoop the two pillows from the floor. By the inflection of ' _a thing'_ and the mention of a family member, Beca found herself not super stoked about where Chloe was taking her here.

"And, I have been cordially invited to it, being that it is in Atlanta and therefore, not far from here,"

"Naturally," Beca breezed, now sitting back onto the mattress, hugging the pillows to her chest. The girl across from her throws a sly smile her way, "Obviously. But I haven't seen my uncle Brian since I was like," She screws up her face, calculating the age in her head, "Seven or eight, maybe. So- that's kind of weird,"

Beca nods, conceding to the idea that it may be a little bit odd for the two of them to meet again after all this time. Chloe goes on, "My dad really wants me to go, though. I'm never going to hear the end of it if I don't,"

This time, when Beca nods, it's borne from the understanding of family expectations. Which, she really hated. So she could relate to the look of minor pain this situation appeared to be causing Chloe; considering the girl's brow was furrowed and her bottom lip jutted out the tiniest bit.

" _And..?_ " Beca raised her eyebrows- not entirely sure if she had missed a key point in the conversation.

"I mean, I was hoping," Chloe uses her toes to inch forward in the chair, wheels sliding along the floor in Beca's direction. Her grin unabashedly growing as she did so, "You could come with me? So I'm not totally weirded out by all these distant relatives by myself?"

The suggestion pulls a scoff from Beca before she can stop herself. Using her thumb to gesture towards herself, the brunette laughs, "Dude, did you seriously just ask me that?" Chloe's expression falters at that, but the glint of challenge behind her eyes is not missed by Beca. "Chlo, you know I can barely handle family time with _my own_ relatives,"

"Yeah, but," The other girl protested, scooting forwards again so that she could place her palms flat against Beca's knees- as though proximity would help her make her full affect. Which, actually, was a Chloe Beale thing to do. "They aren't _your_ family. I just need some moral support,"

Half-heartedly, she narrows her eyes at the girl. Chloe bats her lashes in response, applying firm pressure around Beca's knees, as she whines, "Please, Beca? There will be free food, and wine,"

"Why not one of the other girls?" She could already feeling the willingness to refuse begin to crumble. And no, it wasn't because she was getting a little lost in the bright blues, but because arguing was probably going to turn out to be more effort than it's worth.

Chloe sighs, "I thought about that already. I'm worried Stacie would hit on my younger cousins, and Amy..." She trails off, and Beca blinks at the girl across from her, "Is a bull in a China Shop?" She finishes for her, pursing her lips together.

"Yeah. That."

It was, probably, in Chloe's best interest to bring Beca. While there was nothing wrong with Jessica or Ashley, or even Flo, as a companion, Beca knew the bond just wasn't close enough to be awkwardly propositioned to a family event. Not when Beca was available for an option, anyway. So, she kicked the idea around in her head a little; but it was hard to determine just how uncomfortable the affair could be. Chloe leaned back, still with her hands on Beca's knees however, "I can ask Jessica," She noted, eerily as though she had been reading Beca's mind. Yet, the words sent a jolt of guilt through Beca, for some reason, "Wait," Even though the redhead didn't appear to be going anywhere. Quietly, Chloe arched a single inquisitive brow, and Beca, who's arm was amidst being metaphorically twisted, took a moment to gather her thoughts. "What kind of _thing_ is it?"

"Some company dinner party thing," The girl responded without missing a beat, "He works for some hoity-toity New York place."

Beca cringes, "Sounds fancy."

Chloe dismisses her concern with a wave of the hand, and Beca gives her a pointed look. Because dresses were _not_ something she wanted to see in her near-future. "All you have to do-" Chloe reaches out then, prodding Beca on the end of her nose with a single finger. Provoked, Beca swats the appendage away and fixes the girl with a particularly icy glare, which she responds to with a light chuckle, "-Is sit there and look pretty."

Beca rolls her eyes so hard they nearly get lodged into the back of her skull. " _Wow,_ " She says dryly, "I've been reduced to a two-dimensional prop,"

"More like arm candy," Chloe quips back just as quickly. At the notion, Beca feels the heat rise in her cheeks again, and Chloe uses her hands against Beca's knees as leverage to push herself backwards. "So what do you say?"

It was with great personal pain, but it felt like a duty that came with the responsibility of friendship. Or something. And, hell, free wine and food? Beca could work with that. "When is it?" But she needed all the details first.

"November first."

"That's-?"

"A Monday." Chloe twirls around in the chair, readily able to meet all of the brunette's questions. It makes Beca wonder if the girl had rehearsed, or if she just knew Beca that well. "But who needs classes anyways?"

She gnaws her bottom lip. Sure, it was her senior year, and maybe Beca _should_ be taking it seriously. On Mondays she had two classes, which would kind of suck, because that only meant more catch-up for her. And catch-up was never a game Beca liked to play, so she could admit to herself that the neglect of not doing so would probably cause her to stumble a bit in her studies.

But, it wasn't really like she cared about those classes, anyways. They didn't have anything to do with what she was interested in investing her future in.

"I guess I'll go," She mumbles, still feeling whole-heartedly defeated despite her lack of real debate. At that, however, Chloe lets out a high pitched sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a squeal of excitement, jumping to her feet. "Really?"

"I guess so," She shrugs, "Do I have to wear a dress?" That was the real concern here.

Chloe claps manically- a bit like a jubilant seal, actually- clearly thrilled that she had gotten through to the brunette. "Oh my goodness," She beams, "Thank you! And, no, we can find you something else,"

"You say that like you don't trust my ability to dress myself,"

"I do," The girl responds firmly, still appearing too relieved to really focus on playful banter. She began pacing, the pent up energy from her elation rolling off of her in waves, "But I want to help pick out your outfit."

Beca wrinkles her nose, reminded with a momentary distaste of being ten years old again and having her mother try to pick her outfits out for her, even though she was _definitely_ too old for that charade. The feeling is quickly replaced, though, with a clenching feeling somewhere within her chest, which Beca promptly tried her best to squelch down. "Okay, sure. Whatever,"

Chloe pauses in her restless marching, casting a mischievous look at Beca over her shoulder. She then reroutes, coming straight for her and throwing her arms around neck in an klutzy half-hug. Due to the positioning of Beca's sitting body, and the redhead leaning down in order to embrace her- Beca grunts and tactfully cranes her head upwards to meet Chloe's shoulder, instead of being buried alive in boob. "It'll be fun, Becs," She promises into the brunette's shoulder, breath warm against the material of Beca's shirt, her hands running along Beca's back. Who had tensed at the contact. "We can get into all sorts of trouble to keep things interesting,"

"Uh-huh," Grumbling, Beca absently considers how long this hug was going to last, "Sounds like a great way for you to make an impression on the family you haven't seen in years,"

Chloe laughs, breaking away and holding Beca out at arms length, "Oh _yeah,_ " The girl disclosed with exaggerated conspiracy to her tone, "I have a few ideas in mind,"

"Don't get me in trouble!" She scolds, pointing a reprimanding finger at the redhead.

"Never!" Chloe gasps, pulling back. Beca eyes her skeptically, humming her disbelief at that. Chloe, much like a naughty child, had been in more than one situation in the past where she had- say, _knocked a mug off of the display shelf at The Pottery Barn_ \- and immediately responded by taking a step backwards and pointing at Beca.

After a few moments under Beca's withering glare, Chloe sighed contently, all but skipping towards the stairs, "And make sure you pack some dancing shoes," She comments idly, placing her hand on the railing, "You and I will be busting up that D-Floor,"

Groaning, Beca drops backwards onto the mattress. That promise alone was enough to get her to start kicking herself for not arguing more passionately about not attending. "Shit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we are! Some Chloe perspective. So, I think I'll let y'all know that I plan to make this slow-burn. I'd love to hear your thoughts!  
**

* * *

Chloe wouldn't call it a crush. An acknowledged attraction would be more like it. The emotional aspects of it- well, she _tried_ to stay away from those; although in her moments of personal honesty, she couldn't help but think that maybe there _was_ something a little more. And for Chloe; that could very well be a death sentence. It was something her mom and Aubrey had both told her; soft-hearted concern playing over their features as they clucked their tongues and gave her that look over their shoulder. The kind that said they didn't trust her to stay out of trouble. She falls in love too easily, that's what they'd say. She can remember the conversation she'd had with Aubrey like it was yesterday. It wasn't long after she started seeing Tom. Chloe, had, admittedly, been smitten and she professed that she feared her feelings might go deeper than a usual attraction. It was about three weeks after she had started seeing him; after the first time they'd slept together.

Aubrey had sighed, pouring hot water from the teapot on the counter of their shared dorm into two mugs, "You know," She had watched as Aubrey placed the teabags into each cup, shoulders slumped with a resigned acceptance. "You fall in love too easily,"

It wasn't as if she could help it. Chloe didn't do things half-assed, and that included feelings. Tom was a wonderful guy- still was, actually, even though they don't talk much anymore. He was kind, gentle, and empathetic; it felt like the holy trinity of traits to find in anyone- let alone a guy. It was easy to fall in love with someone who didn't push for anything. Who accepted everything about a person. Who could _connect_. And Chloe had felt it, laying in the entanglement of strong arms after a... well, _memorable_ evening. Love. It wasn't the first time she'd felt it, recognized it, been blindsided by it.

"What's wrong with that?" It was soft, she wasn't necessarily defensive- she knew where Aubrey was coming from, after all. She could understand that the other woman had a point. There were risks. But, there were risks no matter how long someone may have been in love, as far as she was concerned.

Aubrey paused, one eyebrow arching upwards, "You could get hurt." She points out, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which, it _is_. The blonde across from her wasn't the first person to have warned her about that.

"Sometimes it's hard," Her mother had soothed, years before, when a barely seventeen year old version of herself had come home from school bawling her eyes out. "But you can't always fall in love so easily,"

This, of course, was the result of the first heartbreak Chloe had felt at the hands of a significant other. She'd loved her first serious-ish boyfriend from eleventh grade, despite the fact that their relationship barely exceeded five months. Clearly, however, things didn't work out when at the start of senior year he'd dumped her for being "too clingy" and opted for some other girl who was happy to just be his booty call.

(Fuck you, Andrew Garner.)

She'd reflected on that for a while. Was it really better to restrain those feelings to protect her from heartbreak than it was to love freely? She'd kept that in mind for the next relationship she entered, finding herself to be... emotionally constipated, to say the least. It was as if walling herself up to keep love out had made her cold towards most things regarding the poor guy. When his dog had gotten hit by a car and he'd, really and truly, been weeping about it, the best Chloe could offer was a brisk, awkward pat on the back and an offer to let him screw her once he felt better to help get his mind off of it. Obviously, she wasn't so _outright_ about it, but either way; that was pretty much what happened. Three months in, however- to her surprise that he was still around after her inability to communicate effectively or like a half decent human being- Chloe could no longer stand feeling so robotic. She was incomplete. The world just wasn't as great without love in it. So, she'd come around, slowly; reminding herself that it was alright. He could never be a safe place for her if she wasn't willing to be honest with herself. And she'd began to feel it in those moments relaxing with him, when he'd offer to take her out to the park for a late night walk, or when she'd lay on the bed in his crappy studio apartment while they both read, immersed in their own worlds. It was a kind of comfortable that she hadn't felt those first few months. And, maybe it wasn't love but she'd mistaken the feeling for it, and it hurt all the same when they hit somewhere around the eleven month mark and he'd broken the news to her, claiming that, " _the timing isn't right_ " before handing her the few things she'd left at his place in a box.

(Thanks a lot, Eric Hoffmann.)

So, she had her fair share of heartaches. Even that one night stand at the end of highschool had bred heartbreak for her when she had tried to talk to the guy the next day and was totally blown off. To think, she had thought he was genuinely a nice guy. Maybe it was the beer-goggles. Maybe it was her own naivity.

(Go kick rocks, Dustin _Whatsyourlastname._ )

But she would take feeling heartbreak over not feeling any day. All of those bumps along the way had equipped her with the tools she needed to find a happy medium. She'd decided that _acknowledging_ , while not _dwelling_ , was the key way to deal with things she felt for- the cute guy in her biology class? The coffee guy at the on-campus cafe that knew her order and had, like, the most gorgeous eyes? The one-night stand she had with that guy from that one party? The girl she ambushed in the showers all those years ago?

That was a first.

Likewise, however, sexuality wasn't something Chloe was particularly stingy with either. As long as one was safe about it, sex felt like a taboo object that people, for some reason, denied themselves of. But Chloe was all about experiences; so why would she suppress that, much like one would suppress the feeling of love?

Not that she was a _manic,_ though. She liked to believe she had a good control over her libido, which meant she had never indulged in any situation that she was particularly regretful about. _Most of the time_. Okay, there was an occurrence or two that she should've thought through a bit more. And, aside from, of course, the outcome of those relationships, she can't help but feel like maybe she shouldn't have given so much to those individuals. But, what was done, was done, and there was no use in drowning herself in remorse.

It wasn't libido that had drawn her into that shower, however. While it had been the libido that had brought her to the room in the first place- bless Tom, really, for being the person he was- it had been the _voice_ that left Chloe darting out of her sexy shower-stall-time with the then boyfriend. Not all, but _most_ dirty thoughts evaporating from her mind in an instant. And, no, she hadn't entirely been expecting Alternative Girl from the activities fair to be the one she found, but she was thrilled nonetheless. And, Chloe, shameless in many ways, hadn't been bothered by the nudity of either of them; even when her eyes momentarily strayed. Of their own accord, of course, but she wasn't complaining. Because, she had eyes, and sometimes they slipped before she could catch them; and she knew a beautiful person when she saw one. There was something about Beca, and her voice, that resonated with Chloe in a way she couldn't really comprehend; nor did she really care to. Even when moments fell away and there was a tenderness Chloe felt for the other girl, the need to defend her against Aubrey, or really, anyone that would slight her.

So, she was attracted, sure. Who wouldn't be?

The fact that their friendship had only blossomed from there was incredible to her, too. Chloe was so, deeply thankful that four years later, she could call Beca one of her best friends. Or, even, her actual best friend; alongside Aubrey, of course.

"It'll be fun, Becs," She's got her face against the brunette's small shoulder, forcing her into a tight embrace. One that she knows Beca detests, because she's all tensed up like she's never had a hug before; which, is a total lie, because she has given the girl somewhere around a _million_ hugs by now. "We can get into all sorts of trouble to keep things interesting,"

Getting Beca to agree had been a process, but, not as hefty of one as she had been anticipating. Which was great, considering there wasn't anyone she'd want to accompany her more than the girl in her arms.

"Uh-huh. Sounds like a great way for you to make an impression on the family you haven't seen in years."

She'd actually have to do some brainstorming. Giggling, she pulls away; but keeps her hands firmly planted on Beca's shoulders so that she could observe the girl across from her. All sulking and broody, but not entirely unhappy with the situation. "Oh, yeah," It's with an almost obnoxious amount of mirth, mostly because she knows the tone will send Beca into a tunnel of adorable panic. And she really enjoys that split second of snarky disapproval when it flashes across her face, "I have a few ideas in mind." She doesn't have much. But Beca doesn't need to know that- and Chloe has a month or so to think on it.

And, _there_ it is. Beca's eyes widen and then narrow just as quickly, as she pokes a censuring finger in her direction, "Don't get me in trouble!"

Chloe lets go of the brunette with a gasp, "Never!" She'd probably find some way to do it. She could start brainstorming that, too.

Dropping her hand to her lap, Beca looks her over, as discontent with that as ever. Years into friendship meant that Beca, Chloe was certain, was onto her and where her current train of thought was going. It was hard to say, though. Would there be a punch bowl? If so, she could idly remark to someone in Beca's earshot to be careful, because she was pretty sure _'that brunette over there_ ' spiked it.

Sighing, she began for the staircase again. Since the girl hadn't already been in the best mood today, given the season, and all- Chloe could sum up the fact that her work here was done. And for Beca, space was something that had to be granted in surplus amounts when necessary, and Chloe didn't really want to extend her invitation further. "And make sure you pack some dancing shoes," But that didn't mean she couldn't put in one last little thing, "You and I will be busting up that D-Floor,"

It's not a crush. Despite the misleading, giddy thump of her heart in her chest as she descends the stairs just as quickly as she had arrived. There's the faintest sound of Beca's groan of objection, which only further encourages the smirk pulling at Chloe's lips. It's an _acknowledged_ attraction; one in which she can revel in the mischievous pleasure she gets in making the other girl squirm, or blush, or just get all worked up in all the... _appropriate_ ways.

As she hits the bottom stair, Chloe feels her phone vibrate in her back pocket. Reaching for it, she casts a look back up in the direction she came; could it be Beca again? Complaining already?

It's not.

It's Stacie, to the Facebook group chat that consisted of everyone in the Bella house- plus Legacy (no freshman in the house, and all).

 _ **Stacie to Acabitches:**_ _guess who just scored a MAJOR deal?_

Unlocking her phone, Chloe mindlessly continued down the hall, fingers tapping out a reply as she went.

 _ **Chloe:** What kind of deal? :)_

 _ **Jessica:** You? That's who?_

 _ **Stacie:** yes, me, that's who!_  
 _ **Stacie:** and Chloe, I know you'll like it ;)_

Reaching the second set of stairs back to the main floor, the redhead pauses for a moment, just to make sure she wasn't about to face plant on her way down.

 _ **Amy:** is it another sex milestone?_  
 _ **Amy:** will there be cupcakes again?_

 _ **Stacie:** no, sadly. but still exciting ;)_

Looking up from her phone, Chloe spots Cynthia Rose on the couch in the living room, sprawled out with some kind of textbook in her lap. As she glides by the woman, she makes a point to alert her, "Groupchat,"

The other girl raises her eyebrows in response, "Huh? What's going on?"

With a half-hearted shrug, Chloe continues past, headed for her own bedroom, "Stacie's got some kind of news,"

Furrowing her brow, the woman began fishing around her pockets. Turning the corner, Chloe focuses on the screen again;

 _ **Amy:** is it though...?_

 _ **Stacie:** YES._

 _ **Beca:** Oh my god, what_

 _ **Stacie:** Becs... ;) ;)_

 _ **Beca:** why are you doing that_

 _ **Cynthia Rose** : whats going on?_

Reaching her room, Chloe hums as she opens the door, closing it just as swiftly behind her, using her free hand to type.

 _ **Chloe:** Spill the beans!_

 _ **Stacie:** Ok ok... you know that guy?_

'That guy' being the dashing young gentleman that Stacie had come across at the gym a few weeks ago. They'd had a thing ever since, as far as Chloe was aware. Not serious, though.

Chloe tosses the phone onto her mattress, keeping a firm eye on the messages as they appeared onscreen, while stooping to pull the socks from her feet.

 _ **Jessica:** The guy with the nice arms?_

 _ **Stacie:** yes, him._  
 _ **Stacie:** well I was hanging out with him last night and he was talking about something he really wanted to get rid of..._

 _ **Beca:** if this is turning into a dirty conversation I'm removing myself from this group_

 _ **Amy:** not worth it, Beca, I'd just add you back_

 _ **Stacie:** omg it's not dirty just listen_

 _ **Beca:** well hurry up, this isn't the Oscars, Meryl Streep. the theatrics are not needed_

Wriggling her pyjama bottoms over her hips, Chloe takes the phone in her hands again, finding herself grinning at Beca's impatience.

 _ **Stacie:** well, i convinced him to just regift said thing to me... free of charge, of course ;)_

 _ **Cynthia Rose:** Girl._

 _ **Chloe:** What is it?!_

 _ **Stacie:** it's..._  
 _ **Stacie:** A NEW SOUND SYSTEM!_

Unwittingly, she gasps aloud. This _is_ exciting news; considering the Bella's have been trying to work with the old stereo they'd had since Chloe was in her _first_ sophomore year. Though it was impressive back in it's day, it had been quickly overshadowed by the advancements in technology.

 _ **Chloe:** NO! :D_

 _ **Stacie:** YES!_

 _ **Cynthia Rose:** What kind of sound system are we talking about?_  
 _ **Cynthia Rose:** Like... what does it consist of?_

 _ **Stacie:** well I haven't seen it, but, by the sounds of it, I think we're set, ladies._

 _ **Amy:** do you Acabitches know what this means?!_

It meant that the Bella's could host a half-decent party, for once. The kind that could (hopefully) have a strong enough sound system to mingle outside and not have the music sound like it was being muffled through three layers of wool.

 _ **Chloe:** All too well ;)_

 _ **Beca:** oh my god_

 _ **Chloe:** Oh Becs. ;) you love it_  
 _ **Chloe:** Damn, though, Stace. We're going to need to throw you a congratulatory party for being like, The Best._

 _ **Stacie:** if you insist ;)_

 _ **Beca:** you all need to go to AAA_  
 _ **Beca:** Acapella Alcoholics Anonymous._

* * *

Saturday morning, for Chloe, had consisted of making a breakfast fruit bowl, gossiping with Amy and Stacie while watching _the Batchelorette_ on cable, and gutting the first of many pumpkins. She'd brought it into the living room, covered the floor in campus newsletters, and separated the gunk from the seeds before seasoning said edibles and throwing them into the oven to bake for a few hours. Around lunch, she'd headed off with Stacie to help retrieve the speakers and system from Cute Gym Guy- who's name she'd actually learned was Paul. And, sometime in between the pumpkin seeds and the pickup, she'd had to coax Lily from the staircase, where she was currently holding Beca and Ashley hostage- for reasons not entirely known or understood by anyone- with a box of Lucky Charms and a spray bottle. So, all in all, it was just another day.

"Okay," Cynthia Rose grunted from behind a mess of wires and electrical equipment, "I think we're set."

The system was, as Stacie promised, a _major_ score. Turns out Paul wasn't only good-looking; his parents were loaded, so they liked to spoil him with new high-tech music setups every few years. He'd been hoarding a docking station and three impressive sized speakers- along with another two smaller ones- which the Bella's could now call their own. The girls at home had spent the afternoon relocating the old system to Stacie's trunk/backseat, and strategically placing the speakers around the main floor and back patio. This had ended up being a larger task than Chloe had originally anticipated; which is why she's left sweaty from heaving the living room furniture into different locations to make room for the new system.

"We could tape this," Flo suggests, stretching to pin one of the cords that connected a smaller speaker to the system above the doorframe of the kitchen. They'd decided on placing the smaller speakers atop of the fridge; but being that those two didn't have the luxury of being Bluetooth, they were left with a rather dangerous- if you count _tripping_ as dangerous- snake of wire along the floor.

Humming, Chloe picks up another piece of the wire, lifting it over the system. "It could work,"

"If you don't mind the eye-sore," Amy remarks, observing from a few feet away.

The four women- plus Stacie, who was currently kneeling on the side of the sound system opposite to Cynthia Rose- glance between one another. Chloe shrugs, "Worth it?"

"I guess we'll see," Amy mimics the redhead's action, moving towards the kitchen, "I'll grab the tape,"

The leggy brunette on the ground let out a content sigh, "Is everything synced and ready?"

"I think so," Chloe inches up on her toes to gain a bit more of a leverage on the wire. They'd put two of the larger speakers on the patio; leaving the third in the living room.

Amy rounded the corner again, tape in hand; tearing a piece off and handing it to Flo, before making her way to Chloe. Grabbing the piece offered to her, Chloe fastened the wire against the wall and stood back; the mess was... well, _messy_. But otherwise, not bad. "Should we test it?"

"Test what?" The voice comes from the kitchen, revealing Beca's arrival back at the house. It didn't take long, however, for the brunette to piece together the scene in front of her, "Oh."

For a moment, Chloe's heart stuttered in her chest, and she half-mindedly brought her hand atop of the spot against her ribs, hoping the pressure would calm it. Beca had been MIA all afternoon, and Chloe had been resisting the urge to text her. She had probably just been at Jesse's.

Stacie grinned, pulling herself to her feet and reaching for the auxillary cord, "The new system Beca, _obvs_ ,"

"Yeah," The girl's reply was terse, as she gestured towards the speakers, "I clued in."

Chloe felt herself tilting towards the girl in the doorway, but caught herself before gravity could pull her entirely in her direction. Instead, she throws the girl a playful look, "Sound a little more excited, Becs,"

"Oh, yeah, I'm _super_ stoked," The sarcasm rolled from the tiny girl in waves, as she rolls her eyes to emphasize her point, " _Totes_."

Chloe sighs, "Better."

Bass reverberated around the room- bringing about a round of appreciative hoots from the girls. Beca quirked a brow at the redhead wordlessly, before turning on heel and disappearing back into the kitchen.

"I'm going to check this out on the patio," Stacie announces, "You girls coming?"

The Bella's nodded, following the buxom brunette towards the glass door at the far end of the hallway. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Chloe struggled for a moment between following the girls to the yard or Beca into the kitchen. While her better judgement told her to go outside, the part of her that can't leave well enough alone nudged her in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'll be out in a second!" She eventually hollered over to Cynthia Rose, who had sent her a puzzled look over her shoulder as she waited at the door. The woman nodded, and then vanished to the patio. Chloe took a moment to gain her bearings, before sauntering after the shorter girl.

Beca stood in front of the microwave, impatiently tapping a pair of chopsticks against the counter in a sporadic kind of rhythm. Twirling the utensils around in her fingers, Beca effortlessly displayed her knack for music once again. The girl excelled at many things; but Chloe doubted she was even aware of her own talents sometimes. Which was a shame.

Consciously drawing her attention away from the girl's handiwork, Chloe padded over, giving a theatrically accusatory look, "You got take out?"

Beca eyed her, setting the chopsticks down against the counter, "I did,"

"And you didn't bring any to share?" Narrowing her eyes, she leaned against the counter, just near enough to the other girl to be on the edge of invading her space.

The microwave let out a long, high-pitched trill and Beca extended her hand toward the door, "Didn't realize I had a family to feed, Beale,"

As the microwave door came open, the smell of sweet and sour pork wafted out and towards Chloe, making her mouth water involuntarily. She wasn't necessarily hungry; she and the other girls had ate about an hour ago, but there was an inclination for her to prod at Beca- _and_ her meal- a little. "Not a family," She murmurs, letting her gaze drop down the girl's form as she turned to remove her plate from the appliance. Beca looked good. Chloe couldn't quite put her finger on it; but there seemed to be something... _extra_ lovely about the other girl today. A heavy exhale escapes the brunette next to her, and Chloe smirked; watching the girl turn and put the plate on the counter between them. She tossed the redhead a skeptical glance, before reaching for the brown paper bag emblazoned with the _Moon Wok's Asian Cuisine_ logo that had been discarded near the microwave. "Just, like," Chloe continued, taking half a step forward and winking at the shorter girl, "A _special_ someone,"

Beca twisted her lips for a moment, while tearing open a packet of soy sauce, "Oh, is Jesse here?"

It's a joke. But it's also an indicator that Beca didn't plan on sharing her sweet and sour pork in her future- which, was, at the bottom of it; a challenge. For Chloe at least. She hums, watching as Beca poured the contents of the packet over her chow mein.

It was now she decided to make her leering more noticeable; from the lithe curvature of the girl's back, to the exposed nape of her neck. She was, also, trying to pinpoint what it was about Beca today that was standing out to her. Was it just because she was wearing the purple flannel, rolled up to her elbows? She did always look good in that flannel, she conceded, leisurely taking the time to absorb it's appearance. Was it Beca's braid? She hardly ever wore her hair in braids.

"Are you taking new vitamins?" She inquired, tilting her head and searching for the brunette's stormy blue eyes. Beca's brow furrowed, seemingly taken aback by the obscure question, "No?"

"Oh," With that, she straightened up, inching closer still, "Well, you look really good,"

The girl stiffened, ever so slightly, "Oh, well, thanks, I guess,"

Pressing her lips together, she watches as Beca reaches for the chopsticks again, before realizing that Chloe had managed to sneak up and place her hands against the counter, successfully blocking Beca's path to them. With mild indignation, the brunette's reach falters, and she straightens, glancing upwards at Chloe. She meets her gaze, batting her eyelashes as innocently as possible. Giving the redhead a levelling glare, Beca cleared her throat, "May I?"

Chloe observes the placement of the chopsticks, and then Beca's hand. The girl had two options; to sneak between the space created from her arm and her midsection, or to awkwardly attempt to reach around and over. The latter would be considerably less work for Beca, but that would mean getting a little closer than Beca would usually be comfortable with. Resisting the smirk that threatened to pull at the corners of her mouth, Chloe shifted, locking her eyes with the girl across from her once again, "Yeah, go ahead,"

"Are you gonna, like," She raises her hand, stiffly giving Chloe a ' _shoo_ ' motion with her fingers.

Which is also a reaction Chloe took into account. Dropping her mouth in feigned offense, she turns, snatching the chopsticks up in her hands, "I dunno, Becs,"

Groaning, the girl lolls her head back on her shoulders before pulling it forward again, "Chlo, you know I can eat with a fork, too, right?"

Shit.

That, on the other hand, wasn't something Chloe had taken into consideration.

For a moment, their eyes remain locked. She takes a few beats to calculate Beca's distance from the utensil drawer, and a few more to read the look Beca is giving her. Which is, in short, exasperated. However, by the lack of genuine snapping the brunette is throwing in her direction, Chloe can tell that she's moreso being grouchy for the sake of it than she is honestly petulant. So, she's in the clear. After that revelation, she takes another brief second to formulate a plan, just as Beca's eyebrows arch in question.

Tossing the chopsticks aside, Chloe lunges forward at breakneck speed, curling her fingers around Beca's wrists as the girl squeaks in surprise- a sound that Chloe can't help but giggle at.

"What do you want from me?" Beca cranes her head backwards to avoid a collision, jerking her arms feebly.

Stifling her laughter, Chloe holds fast, bringing Beca's hands together between the two of them, "Share."

"What?" She puffs, eyes darting anywhere but at the girl holding her captive, the proximity making it a little bit difficult, "My food?"

Chloe nods, satisfied that Beca had finally quit struggling. Albeit, she did look a little provoked at the demand, as she narrowed her eyes at the girl across from her and clenched her jaw.

" _Dude!_ That's mine, I bought it,"

Chloe knew full well that she didn't actually want to eat Beca's supper, but, after four years, she'd learned something about Beca, and herself; and it was that Beca didn't like to share. So, Chloe, in turn- liked to _make_ Beca share.

Mirroring the brunette's expression, Chloe pulled Beca's hands closer to her, closing the space between them further, "Share." She repeats, just as coolly.

She hears Beca inhale sharply at the motion, straining the keep some distance, "B-why? Didn't you already have dinner?"

Tilting her head, Chloe tries again, more firmly this time, " _Share. Your. Moon Wok._ "

The brunette holds for a moment, alternating between attempting to look everywhere but at Chloe, and then giving her glares that are slowly crumpling in intensity. Chloe could practically see the gears and cogs working in her brain, weighing the options; likely faltering, given the whole _personal space makes Beca not function properly_ thing. The girl runs her tongue along her bottom lip, which throws Chloe off balance for the smallest fraction of a second, because she couldn't quite get away with lip peeking at this distance. Or, lack thereof.

"What's going on in here?"

The voice startles Chloe enough to take a step back, but not relinquish her grip on the girl's wrists. The Tasmanian entering the kitchen gives them a look over, furrowing her brow, "Looks like you girls are about to get all Aca-Lesbian all over the counters,"

"Nothing," Beca mutters, a blush clearly creeping up her neck, which causes Chloe to grin wryly before she can stop herself, "She's just forcing me to share my food,"

She was more than likely choosing to ignore the comment made. As Amy leaned against the fridge, lowering her voice sternly she looked at the redhead from under her brow, "Chloe, you need to play nicely with the other children,"

Obediently, she drops Beca's hands, but didn't bother moving. "Isn't sharing the first thing we learn about in preschool?" She asks, directing the question mostly at Beca, but leaving it open-ended so that Amy could chime in, as well.

The brunette glowers at her, begrudgingly lifting her plate from the counter and holding it out towards her. Pleased, Chloe plucks a piece of sweet and sour pork off of the plate with her thumb and forefinger, backing out of the girls personal bubble and heading towards the doorway, "This is all that I wanted," She admits, overlooking the venomous look the shorter girl was giving her and turning to the blonde, "How was the music on the patio?"

It wasn't a crush.

But it was so much fun.


	4. Chapter 4

**Happy New Year! Big chapter. Gettin' some angst in with Jesse and Beca and lots of Bechloe interaction ;) Read and review if you like what you're reading! It makes my day  
**

* * *

Tuning out Jesse had never been what Beca would call difficult. This was, in part, due to the fact that the guy was calm enough to be talking to himself just as much as he was talking to Beca half of the time, so she could get away with the old nod and _'uh-huh_ ' response. And, yeah, she felt kind of bad about it sometimes. But, seriously, did he _really_ expect her input on the cinematics of Avatar? She didn't know the first thing about cinematics. She didn't really care to know. All she could do was stare blank-faced at the screen, somewhat follow along, but inevitably end up thinking about mixes or Bella's or, lately, Residual Heat and the whole ' _she has to come clean about working there_ ' thing before it blows up in her face.

And it wasn't only Jesse. Beca had become pretty good at tuning people out in her life; see, _her father,_ or _Shiela,_ for more details.

Lately, though, she wasn't just tuning out his mindless movie drabble. Beca found herself lost in thought more and more often during their coffee runs, or one-on-one time that didn't involve movies. And, every time she snapped out of it, and came-to mid-conversation, she felt a jolt of worry. Because tuning out was a talent of hers, and so was shutting people out. And she'd learned the identifying signs of this through her lifelong practice. Tuning out and shutting out seemed to go hand-in-hand.

"Becs? Are you listening?" He asked, blinking at her from across the tiny table in the kitchenette of his and Benji's shared apartment. Reeling, Beca scanned the memory banks of her brain in hopes of finding something Jesse had been talking about, but came up short just as quickly. She opens her mouth, a non-commital vowel sound escaping her, "I-uh,"

Sighing, he places his coffee mug against the table and reaches out for her hand. Beca allows him to grab hers within his own; it's warm from hugging the mug against his palm, and reassuring as he looks up at her with that deep sympathy behind those brown eyes. Shifting in her seat, she fixes her stare on the Star Wars poster above the kitchen table- because this is _not_ what this moment was about and she didn't really want to hear it, but it's too late for that. "I know this is a hard time of the year for you," He starts, "And I get it-'

"It's," She cuts him off, her hand twitching under his. She wanted to retract into herself, but she stops herself, forcing it to sit still against the tabletop. Because she isn't Freshman Beca anymore, and she had to stop running away from things. "It's not that. I was just," What _was_ she doing? Nothing, really. She didn't have a decent alibi to occupy her thoughts with. It probably _did_ have something to do with the time of year, atop of everything else. "Chasing a train of thought."

He's not convinced. His lips draw into a straight line, leaning backwards in his seat. There's like, a _ninety-nine_ percent chance he see's right through her vain attempt to quickly patch up any holes in her brickwork with duct tape. And Jesse has a tough love side; one in which she was first introduced to not long after she met him. The first time she tried to freeze him out of her life. It makes Beca squirm, but there is an all too real possibility that the guy is well-equipped with enough Beca knowledge to see the repeat that's happening.

"Don't," She starts, fixing him with a pointed stare before he can say anything else , "I'm serious."

"Becs," He sighs again, resignation now resting on his features, "I am too."

She wouldn't question it for a second. She was about thirty-five seconds away from a sob-story " _I'm sorry your dad left you_ " talk, which would soon transform into " _you can't shut me out_ " talk; neither of those topics necessarily being something Beca wanted to discuss.

"Really," She slides her hand carefully from under his, pressing a tight smile against her lips. "I didn't really mean to space out, I just," All she needs is some breathing room. It felt like someone, or something, had started yanking at the loose string on the end of her sweater that was her relationship; the thread slowly unravelling the sleeve. "I remembered that I'm supposed to be doing that," Hiding the momentary panic in her voice was a conscious effort, as she raised herself out of the chair and took a single step around the table, leaning in to give Jesse a quick peck on the cheek. "That, stupid shopping thing with Chloe,"

Which wasn't until three-thirty, until after the redhead's afternoon class. But, what Jesse doesn't know won't hurt him. Even if he does have an idea; which is pretty evident by the way she catches his expression crumbling as she darts out of the dorm room and doesn't stop until she's securely in the elevator. It's then she lets the thoughts that were straggling behind in her moment of panic-stricken retreat to catch up with her, alongside the image of disappointment plastered on Jesse's face behind her eyes. And she instantly reprimands herself for fleeing. Because she had worked hard not to have reactions like that, and yet, here she was; facing the small reality that maybe whatever was between them was burning out. And it wasn't Jesse. With that thought facing her, she could feel it- low in her gut- the harsh truth that it takes two people to make a relationship survive and only one to let it die. And her distance was killing it. Wasn't it? Was it? Or was this really how things ended for everyone?

And was the feeling really gone, or was she just freaking out?

To say she's been under stress lately would be an understatement. And Beca has always had a penchant for becoming overwhelmed- often abruptly and without warning. It happened when the little things piled up, like Jenga. And, granted, she did have quite a few little things on her plate.

None of which caused her the amount of turmoil she felt about graduating, though.

With a ding, the elevator comes to a stop at the lobby, the doors opening to reveal a gaggle of frat boys holding... well, she didn't exactly know what it was. But it was blue and green and so were they, for some reason. Blinking at them, they part way for her to exit before filing in after her. There's a knot in her chest that had formed from trying to keep her cool on the way down, and it's still there as she sort of nods at the receptionist guy at the front door who never signs her in because she was here so often.

Bursting out of the front doors, the musky October rain smell fills her senses- which she's never been so thankful for. The air is cool and it feels like it cleanses her as she inhales deeply, leaning against the side of the building in hopes that she doesn't suddenly experience a vertigo from the the drastic atmosphere change.

She shouldn't have left. It was the wrong move, on her part. But she still has time for damage control. Fishing her phone from her back pocket, she opens up the chain with Jesse, sending off a brief but effective apology text and telling him she loves him, and would see him later. As she watches the bar at the top indicate that the message is delivered, Beca can't help but notice it doesn't do much to relieve the pain in her gut, although she feels it lighten in knowing she could at least be decent enough to _try_ to fix it. And Jesse would get over it, but without a doubt, the guy was probably second-guessing the situation just as much as she was. Over analyzing.

Without waiting for the answer, she slides the phone back into her pocket, pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand and grounding herself against the wall behind her with the other. She shouldn't have ran. She _really_ shouldn't have. But the need to escape had come fast and with powerful force- the kind of intensity she hadn't felt in a long time. Because she had been secure where she was; with the Bellas, with Jesse. They had become a safety net; dependable, unwavering, and they provided the support that her younger self- albeit only a few years younger- had needed at the time. Even though, it makes her feel like a corny piece of crap when she thinks of it that way. But, a fact was a fact, she supposed. She'd needed them. Commitment issues on her part had been a leap and a bound to overcome, but slowly, she'd allowed it to happen. Chloe had assured her on more than one occasion that Bellas were family, and it didn't really look like anyone was going anywhere for a while. Jesse had also informed her, subtly, but firmly, that she needed to open up. She had. She could admit that she had- only to herself, and _also_ , only to herself, she could admit that she was happy about it. Relationships with her own species hadn't been surplus, concrete, and positive for a large portion of her life. It felt like relief to find out what it was like. It felt like home. Could it be with the real world looming outside of this bubble that had started to decay the foundation?

And, Jesse was probably right. It probably _did_ have something to do with the time of the year. She did always... _fall off the wagon_ a little bit. The approaching anniversary of the day one wakes up to find one's father missing was probably enough for anyone to become a little irritable. The approaching anniversary of one's mother passing away was probably enough for anyone to sulk a little. The fact that those two dates were just about a week apart from one another left little recovery time, and Beca's prevalent bitterness amplified at that. And, _no_ , she didn't like to talk about it like a healthy human being. She preferred to drown in her own self-pity, or ferociously ignore it in intervals that were both extreme and unpredictable. She wasn't particularly proud of her coping mechanisms, but, Beca had been acquainted with herself for quite some time now, so she knew how the season played out.

So, maybe it was all of the above. That was the logical explanation to her overthinking. But that didn't stop her mind from racing or suppress the extraordinary wish to disappear completely for a while. Dig a grave. Head for the hills. Fake her death like in Gone Girl. Okay, maybe not like Gone Girl- because that was fucked, and yeah, Jesse made her watch it for some reason- but fake her death, nonetheless. None of those options were really feasible, though, so she just takes a few more moments to centre herself. Remind herself that running once isn't the end of the world. Next time, she wouldn't. She'd man up, talk to Jesse if she needed to.

But God, hopefully that's not the case.

* * *

Beca's never been a fashion kind of gal. She's not terrible, no; but her knowledge peaks at knowing when something clashes, and understanding what kind of outfits were appropriate for given situations. She'd never say she was a guru, though. Wouldn't dream of it. In fact, her style usually consisted of what was comfortable and easy. Nothing that stood out. Like, ever.

Back when she was a broody teenager she'd discovered this sense of style, and her mother would sometimes encourage her to buy something that was 'brighter' or 'more _vibrant_ ' or 'happy'. Sometimes, Beca would oblige, but the article of clothing would end up sitting at the bottom of a drawer or the back of her closet until it was wrinkled and forgotten about. So, eventually, she stopped doing that. It left her wardrobe consisting of mostly shades of white, grey, black, with the occasional deep red or blue or purple article here and there. She stayed away from the brighter end of the spectrum, though.

Chloe was, by some means, the opposite. The girl seemed comfortable and confident in just about anything. Once, Beca and Fat Amy actually had to talk Chloe out of purchasing a god-awful pair of jeans that were just about neon yellow. The girl had frowned, and proclaimed that she liked the colour. The pair had consoled her that, while the colour may be lovely, the pants were, in fact, _not_. Secretly, Beca wouldn't doubt it if Chloe would have somehow been able to rock the pants without looking like a circus clown. But that was beside the point. The point being that Chloe just somehow knew what to do with clothing; she could accessorize, throw together an outfit, and make just about anything look good. And it appeared to be effortless.

Even today, the girl was wearing an off-white blouse that was reasonable for an outing, but nicer than one that she'd put on for just a day at the Bellas household. With sleek black leggings, wavy curls, and some kind of long necklace; Beca had immediately compared the outfit to her own when the girl had bounced into her room. Because Beca, in comparison, hadn't really bothered to brush her hair, was wearing a pair of black jeans with rips at the knees, and an old grey long sleeve. She was dull compared to the exuberant ray of sunshine next to her. Which was, also, something that had sent her mind momentarily stumbling. She often wouldn't give a shit how she looked next to anyone else, let alone Chloe. But it had happened without much conscious direction, until she was blinking and shaking her head at herself, grabbing the keys from the nightstand and following the redhead out of the Bellas house.

It wasn't until they reached the third store that Chloe had found an array of clothing that deemed appropriate for a fancy-ish company dinner that wasn't a dress. Beca sort of awkwardly trailed behind her while she quipped about Worlds, or the Bellas, or Aubrey. Occasionally, she placed some piece of clothing into Beca's hands as she perused through racks.

"Do you have a pair of black jeans?" Chloe asks, suddenly, wrinkling her nose at a pair of dress pants she was inspecting.

"Um, yes?"

Baby-blues poke at her playfully from the corner of her eyes, "Like, a nice pair?" Then they flit downwards, before meeting Beca's again, "Without holes in the knees?"

Beca bristles. "Actually, I bought these like that," She defends, even though she knows that the other girl is just teasing her, "So, they're a fashion statement."

"Oh good," She turns back to the shelf she found the pants on. "I thought you were just a degenerate."

"Nope." She enunciates the 'p' with a pop of her lips, following the girl deeper into the store as she drifted off through the racks. Chloe tosses her a sly grin over her shoulder as she stops at the wall of the far end of the store, which, Beca realized was the men's section. Furrowing her brow, she took in her surroundings, before stiffly trying to paw through the pile of clothes that had grown in her hands, searching for anything Chloe may have given her that could have been a men's.

"Well, there goes my Christmas idea," She hears Chloe muse nearby, "I thought I was going to have to provide for you by buying you a new pair of jeans," With that, Beca feels the skin of her cheek being pinched gently between two fingers, and she jerks her head back, shooting the girl a venomous glare. Leave it to Chloe to stuff her hands full to inhibit any chance of retaliation and then just about physically assault her. The girl smiles impishly, winking as she continues. "But, since they're totally fine- just a fashion statement- we don't have to worry about that."

"You do realize that I know where you sleep, right?" Miffed about the soreness in her cheek, Beca doesn't waver her glower despite the girl's growing smile.

"Are you going to come visit me?" Her eyebrows raise suggestively, before she turns away again. Beca feels a warmth spread into the tips of her ears, and the wheels in her brain begin to whir a bit faster.

"I-wha- no!" She shakes her head, eyebrows knitting together as she tries to get ahold of her thoughts, "I mean, yes. To kill you, or shave off your eyebrows, or something," Her threat trails off lamely, however, when she notices a man looking at jeans a few feet away eyeing the two of them with a piqued interest.

The redhead scoffs, grabbing something from the wall that Beca doesn't quite catch. "Well, _that_ was convincing."

Pressing her lips together, she wordlessly continues her sour glare at the other girl, not wanting to draw more attention to the two of them. Beca would argue that they weren't causing a scene, but that guy just looked a little too interested for her liking. Chloe sighs, clearly taking silence as a form of resignation from the brunette across from her, and lays a piece of black material on the top of the pile in Beca's arms.

A crease forming in her brow, Beca stares down at it, "A tie?"

Chloe shrugs, "I thought I'd grab one, just in case. You know, _tie_ it all together." Her tongue juts out between her lips, looking pleased with herself, and Beca groans. "You're incorrigible. What are you having me wear?"

"Well," Chloe places her hands atop of Beca's shoulders, absently squeezing, and then brushing lint that Beca is pretty sure is non-existent off of her. "That's what we're here to find out,"

"I don't know if I trust you," Beca admits, only half-joking as the situation settles on her. The one in which she is entirely putting herself at Chloe's will, by choice.

Chloe tilts her head to the side with a deep inhale, still grinning with all the warmth of a cloudless day in August. "You trust me, Bec." With that, she spins Beca by the shoulders, nudging her in the direction of the dressing rooms.

The mountain of clothing Chloe had picked out from her ended up consisting of four different tops, a few pairs of nice, yet simple pants- some weird vest thing, and, of course, the tie. The pants and vest were both mutually VETO'd by the pair of them.

"Well, if you have a pair of black jeans," Chloe chirps thoughtfully from the other side of the dressing room door. Beca was only half paying attention; her hands fumbling around the knot in the tie that Chloe had fastened around her neck. This had happened after a few moments of quiet argument. "I don't think we have to worry about the pants. Black jeans should be a pass, right? They're classy enough?"

A low grunt sounds from Beca's throat in response, just to let the other girl know that she's listening- no matter how fleeting her attention may be. With growing frustration, she yanks at the tie, unable to discern what in the _hell_ Chloe had done to it to fasten it so snugly around her neck. If anything, she feels as if she was just making the situation worse. "I mean, I don't see why not..." She went on, but there was the tell-tail trail in her voice that suggested she had just snagged an interesting train of thought. "We could look through the Bella performance shoes, see if there's anything in there that could go with it,"

Vigorously, Beca grabs ahold of the fabric in her fist, and struggles for a few passionate moments before dropping her head against the stall and inhaling deeply through her nose. "Chlo?" It comes out softer, calmer than she expected, considering the level of frustration boiling under her skin. "Can you come in here?"

A silence stretches out for a few seconds. Beca just closes her eyes, tries to cool herself off in slow counts to five.

"Yeah," The response finally came, breathless and alongside an audible exhale of air from the other girl. "But you're going to have to let me in, Becs,"

With a start, it occurs to Beca that Chloe was right; she did indeed, have to let her in. Unlatching the door with one hand, she steps back against the wall to give Chloe room to enter, given the confined space. The redhead pokes her head in first, puzzlement evident on her face as she regards the scene before her. However, she seems to catch on just as quickly; taking in Beca still white-knuckling the tie in her hand and harbouring a rather helpless expression. Pursing her lips, Chloe enters the rest of the way, shutting the dressing room door behind her but leaving it unlatched. "Becs," She tuts, in a tone that is rather condescending, which provokes Beca slightly. But, given the position she was in, the other girl was probably in the right to be using such an inflection. She can't say she wouldn't be doing the same, if the roles were reversed.

"Yeah," She mutters instead, dropping the tie in defeat and allowing the redhead to take it within her own hands. "What the hell did you do to this?"

At the accusation, Chloe lifts a single brow, her lips twitching in amusement. "I... tied it, Becs. As one does with a tie."

"Well, I see that," Beca strains against the wall, realizing the proximity between them suddenly. Chloe's baby-blues disappear behind lashes as her gaze drops to the tie, fingers working to deftly undo the knot, "Did you go to girl scouts or something, as a kid? Did you get your badge in knot-tying?"

Chloe lets out a bemused snort in return. "Doesn't necessarily take a genius to tie a tie," With one last tug, the knot comes undone and she's relieving Beca of the article, "I guess it takes one to _untie_ a tie, though,"

Beca narrows her eyes at the girl, who is folding the material in her hands, back into a neat little bundle. Unmoving. As in, still occupying the space despite the glare, which just makes her scowl deepen. After a few moments of this, Chloe widens her eyes at Beca expectantly, "What, no thank you?"

"For coming in here and calling me dumb?" She plays back, indignation thick in her voice. Raising herself onto her tiptoes, she hooks a hand over the top of the stall door.

"Actually, for like, _rescuing_ you," Chloe argues back, placing one very sassy hand against her hip.

Beca pulls the door forward, opening it up a crack. "Get out of here, Beale,"

The girl rolls her eyes in a way that reminds Beca of herself- which strikes her with a personal sense of pride that some of her habits are rubbing off on her- but does as she's told. Beca closes the door after her, latching it again, before beginning to undo the buttons on the shirt Chloe had picked out to go with the tie. At this point, Beca was starting to feel vexed; which was something clothing shopping always did to her, especially if trying things on was part of the equation. She was nearing the end of the line, though. One last, unworn shirt poised on the hanger. When she finally relieved herself of the current article, she wordlessly hung it over the door, where it was just as silently removed by Chloe on the other side. Beca wasn't entirely sure what the redhead was doing with all of the pieces, but she knew enough that this had become the routine.

The final shirt left uncertainty for Beca. Appreciatively, it wasn't a bright colour. It remained in her preferred spectrum- black- and it had a white collar that popped out at the neck and sleeves. Which, Beca was less sure about. She stood in the full length mirror of the dressing room for a moment, observing, before she sighed to herself and opened up the door to allow Chloe to inspect.

The girl was waiting, as patient as ever, on the other side of the door. Lazily picking at her cuticles while she chewed at her bottom lip; both bad habits, Beca notes, for some reason. Her eyes lift however as the movement catches her attention; and that beam is plastered back on her face in utmost exuberance. Beca couldn't help but feel like she was being fawned over, like a mother with a child, as the Chloe approaches her and gasps. "Becs, I like this one!"

Scrunching her nose, she looks down at herself again, unsure how to respond. Chloe had begun pacing around her like a hyena circling it's prey, and it was making her nervous. "Yeah?"

Coming back into her line of sight, Chloe blinks a few times, catching the hesitation in Beca's voice. "You don't like it?"

"Well, I don't _not_ like it," Beca counters, a flare of sticky, hot guilt shooting up through her stomach. "I'm just not sure how I feel about it."

Chloe purses her lips, baby-blues sweeping over the outfit again, before she plants a hand on either side of Beca's upper arms, holding her out at a length. Something, Beca has come to realize, Chloe does a lot. As the girl examines, Beca idly watches copper hair tumble down her shoulders as she nods, brisk, yet firm. "I like it. I think we should go with this one." Hands move down, heading a trail down towards Beca's naval that suddenly has her stomach somersaulting. She begins a sharp inhale, but catches it before- she hopes- Chloe notices as the girl smooths out some of the wrinkles that had formed at the base of the top over her hips. "I think this would look nice with just a pair of your black jeans, you know?" She continues, hands pulling and flattening, readjusting the way material sat over skin. Completely innocent to the fact that Beca's body has now decided that breathing wasn't something she was doing fast enough, and she was struggling with getting the air in and out of her nose in a normal pattern. Which, is probably a reaction she should reflect on. Not now. But later. Maybe. "A pair of flats? That could look nice,"

Beca finds herself nodding, the prickling under her skin short-circuiting any ability she could maybe have to spare a moment of doubt. "Yeah," It's only a partially strangled sound that leaves her then, and she paints a smile on her face immediately after. "Okay. I guess. Alright."

Chloe beams, hands slipping from their work and coming to settle with a barely-there weight against her waist. "It's good, Becs. I swear. You just aren't used to it."

Twisting her torso around, Beca searches for her reflection in the mirror of the dressing room, trying to observe herself again. It was no use, though. Something told her she wouldn't be able to talk her way out of this one, even if she wanted to. Not when Chloe was looking at her like that. "If you say so,"

"I do. Now," Chloe gives a squeeze and then lets go, only to bring her hands back in the form of a nudge, "Let's buy that and then get home,"

The second the connection is relinquished, oxygen intake becomes a more stable sequence for her. The air sort of whistles out of her in a relieved sigh; which, must be from the fact that this shopping trip is coming to a close rather than the absence of touch. Right? After this long with Chloe, Beca had inevitably drawn the conclusion- on more than one occasion- that physicality was a characteristic of the redhead just as much as her endearing grin or her intoxicating bubbly demeanour. And it was something she had whole-heartedly learned to accept, yet not always welcome- but sometimes, on a rare incident, find a distant comfort in. So it really wasn't weird. The level of ' _handsy_ ' she'd just experienced was nothing out of the ordinary, but her body had reacted in an unpleasant upheaval of her past tendencies. Like a relapse. Maybe it was stress again, screwing with the chemicals in her skull and mixing up her defense mechanisms in abrupt impulses that pulled somewhere from deep within the bowels of her psyches. That could be it. It was a rational explanation- or at least close to one. And Beca liked rational explanations. They soothed the incessant sting of questions that spurred like wasps inside her head.  
That could be her theory, at least. And she'd stick to it. The idea of diving any deeper into that thought in the moment, sort of made her feel like she wanted to drown herself in the Treble's pool.

And, despite the fact that she literally forbade herself to waste any time mulling it over, she did. Relentlessly. The whole day, really, quickly became a string of questions that rode on each others coattails. As she bought the shirt, walked back to her car, drove back to the Bellas house. Over and over. Reminders, questions, it made her want to tear her eyes out of their sockets. And yeah, Chloe had done a good job of keeping Beca somewhat pacified by chatting her up about World's, and DSM and that stupid Amazonian Goddess' stupid twitter accounts, about classes and Halloween. At a point, Beca even had an opportunity to tease the other girl about her trip to the stars last week, thanks to the unknown High Notes girlfriend. Beca had indulged, and Chloe's brow had furrowed and she had frowned, apologizing once again, before Beca had, once again, told her not to.

"I'm bugging you, Chlo," Beca laughs, pulling onto the Bellas street.

The redhead sort of pouts, although it's not as deep or sincere as it had been a moment before. "I know, but, I feel bad,"

"Don't," She pauses and sees the red haired girl in her periphery slouch against the window. Taking a right hand turn onto the Bellas driveway, Beca throws another glance in Chloe's direction, easing the vehicle into a halt before putting the car into park. "Like, honestly, it wasn't even bad. You weren't even bad. There was just like," Wrinkling her nose, she makes a face and gestures vaguely with her thumb and forefinger, "cream cheese. Everywhere."

Chloe mirrors her face. "See? I feel bad for that."

A long groan pulls from the back of Beca's throat, as she allows her head to fall back against the car seat. She wasn't actually exasperated, not even a little. And she knew that causing such a show would get that point across to Chloe, who's frown pulls into a slow lift, watching as steely blues meet hers. "Don't," She repeats, "For real. We have washing machines," And then, lips curling into a sly grin, she leans forward. Placing a gentle, very sincere hand atop of the girl's knee, she reminds. "We have that technology."

In the beat that follows the end of that statement, Chloe is swatting at Beca's hand, punctuating the gesture with a playful grin that lit up her face like backlights. Nothing too harsh, nothing blinding, but the glow is warm and appealing to the eye. Beca feels her own smile grow until she's showing teeth. "You're such a-"

The insult- Beca is sure- is cut short when the harsh sound of vibrations split through the air of the car, damn near causing her to jump out of her skin. Chloe's words just sort of fall flat, her eyes dropping to Beca's cellphone in the cup holder, where it usually takes residence while she drives. There's a brief moment of panic as she considers the fact that it could be Residual Heat phoning- but that's quickly washed away when she remembers that she's sort of been expecting a phone call for the last few days. Which is why she knows exactly who it is before she even lifts the phone up. The name displayed across the screen gives her that deflated feeling somewhere in her chest cavity that Beca thinks must be her ego, because it sort of flares back up again like an inflamed, irritated wound.

"Are you going to get that?" Chloe eyes Beca, who was, after all, just sitting there staring down at the thing in her hands with no intentions of answering it.

"Nah," She says, after a pregnant pause. That second to respond was filled with her trying to gather herself, so as to not sound sore about the whole thing. She thinks, maybe, her moment's of hesitation betrayed that anyway. "It's just my dad. I'll call him back. He's just got, like," Beca shifts in her seat, entirely attempting to avoid looking anywhere at Chloe right now, because she can pretty much feel the waves of quiet concern rolling off of her like a tide. And, if she saw the look she was sure accompanied it, she was like, eighty-percent certain that she might break down somehow or get all squirelly, with the way her mood was going today. Both things she'd like to avoid. So, as the phone comes to a still in her hand, she reaches for the door handle with her other. "thirty-six hours to call me before things get weird, so. Here he is."

She hears the click of Chloe's tongue as she opens her mouth to speak, and Beca prays- really to any kind of God up there that might be listening- that she isn't about to say her name; chopped down to that one-syllable, sympathetic way that she sometimes does. Because that always kind of made her feel like she was walking down some deathrow. Meaning that the situation before her was fucked, and so was she- things that Beca didn't like to confront or think too long on if she hadn't been mentally prepping herself to do so. And the last, bottom of the line thing that Beca didn't want, was to be coddled over for her personal tale of hardship.

"It's fine," She blurts, before the girl can say anything at all. She even chances a look her way, and a flighty smile that probably definitely screamed, ' _don't talk to me about this right now_ '. Because that's how it felt, anyway. "I'll call him back when I'm inside."

And, Chloe, being ever the astute socialite she was, seemed to pick up on that desperation. Any indication that she could maybe press the topic slips easily from her face, replaced with a soft-hearted smile and an equally as simple "Okay". And then the two of them are exiting the vehicle; Beca depositing her cellphone into the bag that held the sweater-shirt so that she could avoid looking at it for a few minutes.

"Do you want to carve a pumpkin later?" Chloe asks conversationally, bouncing up the few front steps of the porch. Beca grimaces. She doesn't like to say no, not to Chloe, but she would be lying if she said the idea thrilled her. "I've only talked you into doing one so far,"

"And how'd that turn out?" The inflection is negative only because Chloe had teased her about her lack of artistic skill. But, Beca could admit, the Jack O' Lantern she'd sculpted a few days before was rough, even for her.

The girl purses her lips. "You'll do better next time. Besides," she shrugs, pushing the front door open and standing aside to let Beca through, "We need as many possible for the Halloween bash coming up."

Yet another painful reminder. She'd finally decided that the Bellas were hitting the party scene a little too hard and a little too early on in the school year for her liking. Which, yes, she knew made her sound like a mom but in all honesty, sometimes she felt like one. Or a preschool teacher. With a dozen kids running around and causing havoc all around her. Point in case being that she can't even _not go to one party_ without a good portion of the congregation ending up... in less than favorable conditions. So. She'd talked the girls- all riled up about the new sound system- out of throwing a party immediately. She'd instead, very maturely, used the first twenty five minutes of a Bellas rehearsal to pitch the idea of a single, ultra-decked out party to make up for what some of the girls believed to be 'lost time'. And she may or may not have used the Bellas whiteboard to aid her presentation; complete with bullet-points and a very brief brainstorming session in which she strategically hyped the girls up. It was all part of her bigger plan. Less smaller parties, compensated by one larger party. Genius?

Well, she'd see.

And her plan had managed to work, but that didn't mean she was exactly _excited_ about having a rager. So, sue her. She sucked at being in college.

Beca rolls her head on her shoulders, mulling over the idea. She had sets to do. A father to call. Even now, her mind was absently wandering back to the semi-argument with Jesse she'd had earlier, which meant she'd need some time to stew and worry about that. She had an internship to fuss over and a confession about said internship to mentally write out and then do nothing about. She had choreo to think about, and then eventually talk to Chloe about and maybe use her weird wooden stick-figure-model-things to really get the visuals down. And then maybe end up disinterested in choreo and instead make obscene gestures with them until Chloe's laughing so hard she has to either leave the room for a glass of water or slap Beca into stopping.

"Sure. I guess." She had a million other things to do, but carving a pumpkin with Chloe sounded better than at least three-quarters of the things that were actually a responsibility. "Just give me like, an hour."

Chloe nods, beaming like she hadn't expected Beca to say yes. "Of course."

Beca bounds to her bedroom, finds Amy face down on her bed with a magazine sprawled out before her, and the Tasmanian is greeting her with some usual remark, followed by a mention of Beca's height.

"What's your sign?" She then asks, after the brunette stiffly responds. Blinking, Beca turns to face the other girl, "What?"

Amy's brows are lifting, eyes widening in a face that implied that Beca was daft. "Your _sign_?"

Furrowing her brows, she's still finding herself just as lost as the first time it was asked. She searches Amy's face for any other indication of what it is she's talking about, before her eyes fall on the pages of the magazine that were slightly hidden by her view. And then it clicks.

"Oh," She breathes, the star patterns on the page tipping her off. "My sign. It's- hey, wait," She narrows her eyes, "Don't you know my birthday?"

And then Amy's mouth is pulling out at the sides, exposing teeth. ' _Yikes'_ face.

" _Yeah_ ," The pitch of the word was a clear no. Beca scowls. "No, I don't. I know it's April?"

Beca rolls her eyes, turning back to the shopping bag and upending it over her bed. "And you claim to be my best friend," She shames half-heartedly, throwing an askance peek the woman's way, "You're going to have to work harder for that title. I bet you Chloe knows when my birthday is. Step it up, Amy."

"That's not fair," It's a whine from somewhere behind her. "Not all of us are good with dates like Chloe is. Some of us are good at other things, like pointing out that you need a new pair jeans, those ones have rips in them."

There is a moment in which Beca must remind herself which fights are worth fighting. This is not one of them. Instead, she opts for throwing Amy an icy glare over her shoulder, grabbing the sweater in her hands as she mutters her response. "The twenty-third."

"Oh," Amy muses, "You're a Taurus. Makes sense. You're pretty thick-headed."

Her march to the closet only falters for a second, before she decides to just not respond at all. She had a feeling Amy wasn't done talking, anyway. She was right. "According to the stars, Beca, this month you'll have to _'make some important decisions'_ and _'remain open-minded to new possibilities'_."

Beca rolls her eyes. She'd never been a firm believer in the power of horoscopes. "Wow," It comes out as a drawn, condescending sneer. "sounds like every other month of my life. What does yours say?"

"Oh, you know," Amy doesn't sound slighted in the least bit. "Just that I should have a steamy new man on the way. Not news for this sexy fat-ass,"

And Beca smirks, finishing up with locating a hanger for her new purchase and fitting it between two decidedly older shirts. She couldn't help but notice how out of place the article looked, between her plaids and pullovers. "That's nice," She digresses idly, turning off the lightswitch in the shared closet and heading back to where she'd left her phone on the bed. Amy then mumbles something about Stacie also being a Taurus and trying to remember if Chloe was a Virgo or a Libra.

"The nineteenth," Beca reminds her, scooping the phone up in her hands and throwing Amy a wink when the girl turns her head to gape at her. "Oh, and before you ask; yes, I know you're birthday, too. Chloe isn't the only one good with dates. Now, if you would excuse me," She tilts her head towards the phone, "I have a quick call to make."

And quick was right. She'd descended the staircase in search of some private place- which had turned out to be one of the second story bathrooms- and called the man back, dread dripping into every second the line rang. He'd answered after the third, and the two of them engaged in achingly artless small-talk, the unsaid notation hanging off of the end of sentences and between words. It was the closest thing to sneaking in one last semi-normal conversation of the year that the man could get, and Beca knew that. Which just made the whole thing stranger. But the good thing about holing up in a bathroom was that eventually someone had to use it. It was a very convenient way to cut the conversation short. And, as expected, Ashley ultimately ended up knocking on the door and providing Beca with an out. So, she'd said a quick goodbye and bid him adieu until next time, and he civilly returned that promise. And then the line was clicking shut and an enormous weight was lifted from her shoulders, and Beca had returned to her bedroom- now absent of Amy- and put on her pyjamas. She'd even managed to sneak in some set work before she was being summoned by Chloe, claiming that their pumpkins were ready and waiting for them. For some reason, Beca compared that to lambs waiting for a slaughter, and didn't think the pumpkins would be as psyched to be in that situation as Chloe was making it seem. But, nonetheless, she'd arrived at her calling.

Chloe had laid campus newspapers and flyers out over the living room floor; joined by Amy, Jessica, and Stacie, all happily awaiting yet another carving session. Amy was already sawing a hole through the top of hers. So, Beca sat, cross-legged in the space that had been left for her, and got to work. Grimacing as she scooped goop out of the depths and then lazily drew some kind of outline of a face on it's surface with the black marker Stacie had supplied, seemingly out of thin air. And then she was carving, thoughts occasionally bouncing at her despite the distractions surrounding her, like stones skipping over water. And, she only nearly sliced herself once- which earned her a stern " _careful_!" from Chloe, who had then used her free hand to grip Beca's _almost_ injured one and inspect, just in case. Beca had rolled her eyes but let her fret, not bothered by the fact that Chloe's hand was covered in pumpkin guts only because hers were, too. After that, things went rather smoothly; her pumpkin shaping up to be an improvement over the last one, but still the least inventive or precisely cut one of them all. The best part, however, was that they had all finished up- and that included cleaning and disposal of the papers- quicker than Beca had imagined.

She sort of side-steps Stacie as the girl twirls past, candles in hand, and heads for the front patio to adorn the completed pumpkins. Beside her, Chloe quietly offers Beca a rag to wipe the remaining goo from her hands, and Beca accepts it, running the damp fabric over her hands. "Well, that was fast."

Chloe screws her face up, "I thought you were going to say _fun_."

She lets out a sarcastic laugh, moreso for show than a reflection of her actual feelings. She didn't _hate_ it. "Keep dreaming," Rolling the cloth up in her hands, she tosses it at Chloe's chest and the other girl lets out a noise of surprise before catching it. Taking a step around her as well, Beca smirks as she whisks towards the door frame of the kitchen. As far as she was concerned, her work here was done. And she'd complained minimally. Chloe should be happy to have gotten a pumpkin out of her without much of a fight.

Fingers are curling around her wrist and pulling her backwards before she notices the approach, let alone have time to evade it. "Not so fast, you," Chloe chides, spinning Beca back around to face her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Um." Beca feels the corner of her mouth twitch in a lopsided grin, despite the girl's sudden persistence throwing her off. "Back to my room?" It's not a question- or, at least, she didn't mean for it to be- but it comes out that way when she searches those blue depths with her own. Chloe's shaking her head before Beca even finishes the sentence.

"Oh no," The grin that paints itself across the other girl's face was nothing short of sly, to say the least. Beca narrows her eyes at it, skeptical. "You've got a date with eight other girls, and the couch."

"What?" It takes her all of a second to turn that statement over her head and decipher it's meaning. She tenses, just as Stacie whisks back into the house, contentedly sighing as she twirled the barbecue lighter between nimble fingers, and Chloe's smile breaks wider the second she sees the realization cross Beca's face.

"No," She says it firmly, trying not to let the annoyance slip through. "I have sets to do."

"No getting out of movie night, Becs," Stacie sighs, breezing past the two of them and returning the lighter to it's designated drawer. Chloe quirks a brow, cocking her head in Stacie's direction, "She's right."

"Come on, Chlo," She gripes, deflating with an actual exhale of air from somewhere deep within her chest. "I _actually_ have sets to do,"

Chloe just makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a sigh; high-pitched and completely disinterested in the brunette's excuses. Beca frowns, "Can't I just miss this one?"

She hums then, lips drawing into a tight line and eyes flitting to the ceiling thoughtfully in a drawn out moment of, Beca could tell, totally false consideration. "No." The girl finally chirps, grinning again and moving around Beca, still gripping her wrist in a tow. She groans the whole way to the living room, receiving a reproving glance from over the girl's shoulder.

Jessica had already assembled on the armchair at the far-side of the room, cozied up with a blanket over her lap, and Amy had taken up the far end of the couch, holding several DVD cases in her hands. Chloe halts in the middle of the room, casting a quick look Beca's way; brow furrowed in a moment's debate, before her eyes left her again and scanned towards the cabinet. She then took off in that direction, Beca still trailing behind her, purposefully dragging her feet. Chloe stoops down, and the brunette hastily averts her gaze, but the girl is just as quickly standing back up with a blanket bundled in her opposite hand. Her lead takes them back towards the free portion of the couch, and Stacie appears in the doorway, absently walking in the same direction. Chloe's intake of breath is sudden and sharp, her fingers gripping Beca's wrist just a bit tighter as the girl locks eyes with the other approaching woman. Stacie must feel the pressure, because Beca can see the way she straightens her back and clenches her jaw even from this distance- no matter how short.

"Nope," Chloe declares quickly, rushing forward, just as Stacie does the same. The motion sends Beca jerkily stumbling behind, barely catching her footing just as the grip around her wrist is relinquished and she's instead being propelled forward by a force nudging her between her shoulder blades. And then she's half-tripping half-being-pushed into the middle cushion of the couch, but she lands- without grace, face-first, barely missing Amy- and Chloe is only a few nanoseconds behind. Hopping onto the couch with enough force to send her rebounding slightly, she's spinning around in a daze that's clouded by a snapping irritation at the redhead next to her, before she's pinned again by Chloe's legs draping over her body. There's a split second in which she holds Beca's gaze with challenge, and then turns her head to face Stacie, who was pouting and drifting around the couch in defeat, but not breaking Chloe's eye contact. Beca almost felt like she was watching two lionesses compete over a juicy buffalo; as if if the stare-down ended before Stacie was a non-threatening distance away would result in a pounce attack. A situation that, Beca realizes, was not entirely unlikely.

"Dude," She hisses, once that distance had been achieved and Stacie was settling down on the carpet with a blanket of her own. "Not cool."

Chloe's eyes sparkle with mirth for a moment, as she unfolds the blanket over the two of them, "You make a wonderful projectile."

"Thank you," She says, sarcastically, "I'll add human cannonball to my resume."

Chloe perks at that, but says nothing. As the others make their way into the room, joining Stacie on the floor, or, in Ashley's case, Jessica on the armchair, Amy lists off the movie options so that the voting could take place. It seems the theme for the evening was scary movies, which, only made the situation worse for her. She voted for none. She was alone in that decision, naturally.

"What?" Chloe smirked, as Amy got up to put the movie of choice into the DVD player. "Scared, Becs?"

"No."

When the movie was on, her mind wandered. Only barely paying attention to the storyline of the show. Which was about ghosts, she thinks. Or something like that. And that only unsettles her a little when she associates it with the spirit in their basement- but no, she was not scared. Chloe had eventually readjusted, lifting her legs from where they had affixed Beca in place- likely to prevent her from fleeing- although not entirely. She'd shifted so that one was still kind of half sprawled over one of Beca's, and she'd leaned her body into Beca's, head resting against her shoulder, almost completely engrossed in the film. And it's _almost_ , because her hands had been calmly clasped in her hap until, at some point, they'd seeked Beca's out from where they sat against own thighs, and Chloe had then clasped one of Beca's between her own. A movement, Beca considers, must betray some kind of broken concentration on the movie, until she's sure the girl is completely absorbed again, by the way her body stiffens every now and then as something scary seems to happen onscreen.

That only prompts her mind to stray again, always back to Chloe. Drawn in by the closeness or the warmth or her hand in Chloe's own- or a combination of all three. Because tuning Chloe out had always been a little bit harder. There was something about her presence that demanded attention, even when she was across a room and not necessarily saying anything at all. Beca was pretty sure almost anyone could agree to that. But something about this was... a bit odd, she feels. Like a note in a song that doesn't belong, an out-of-tune guitar strum. Something about it doesn't strike right with her. It's not like it's bad, and she certainly doesn't really mind; despite the fact that Chloe is basically sitting in her lap. And _that's_ what was odd about it. Proximity effect was something she'd learned to deal with, with Chloe, but now it felt as if... something was, missing? Or slightly skewed. She felt off-balance, which lead her to consider again what the hell was with her today. It had always been this way, even if the red-head had to spend the better half of Beca's sophomore year bending her will with cuddles until she finally relented. Which, she was sure, Jesse probably appreciated too, even if he found it as weird as Beca did at first. But then, he'd got to know Chloe and he had nodded his head, and remarked that it ' _really made sense now_ ', once he got acquainted with the girl's sometimes overbearing but not unwelcome fixation of personal space. And invading it. Skillfully.

So she brushes it off as nothing but a feeling. Stress-induced and off-key. She didn't need anything else to think about, she could come back to it if she really needed to.

She would.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here we are, Chapter 5! I'll let you guys know, next chapter I dive more... well, in depth. I appreciate the feedback!  
**

* * *

"What? Amy, no- _guys!_ "

Throwing her arm out in a fit of sudden frustration, Beca makes a swooping motion in the general direction of the Bellas gathered around her. She's sweaty, she's tired, she's downright confused, and she's starting to lose faith in this practice. They'd been in the auditorium for almost an hour and a half, which was usually the time Beca would like to cut rehearsals short, but the fact that the girls had collectively been sharing the attention span of a gnat had really made progress come along a lot slower.

Amy, who had barely worked up a sweat all practice due to her incessant distractions, threw her hands up in defense. "All I'm saying, Beca, is that we could use a little bit more dramatic flair,"

"A little bit-?" The second half of the sentence sputters off into a groan, and Beca drops her head into her hands, only to then realize how clammy she is and lift it back up just as quickly. "Amy, we don't _need_ anymore dramatic flair. We definitely don't need leopard catsuits."

Stacie, who at some point wandered off towards the bleachers, picked her water bottle up and held it to her lips in a moment of thoughtful lull. "I dunno, Becs," She takes a long sip, enough time for Beca to send her helpless expression in the girl's direction. The taller brunette shrugs, putting the bottle back down, "It could be kind of sexy."

"Please don't encourage her."

"But Beca-" Amy starts again, and she's pretty sure she can feel her eye twitch as she's driven that much closer to the edge.

"No!" She barks, "If we want DSM to take us seriously, and make-up for the massive collateral damage of Muffgate, then we need to be totally focused on this right now! Which you guys _clearly_ aren't because every five minutes one of you is going off on something that is _beyond me_ , and- oh my god," She brings her hands up to her temples and rubs in circles, opting to calm herself down, "I feel like Aubrey."

The girls around her, momentarily shocked into silence at the outburst, shared glances between each other with various degrees of uncertainty and resign. Stepping forwards, Chloe made her way to Beca's side, casting a knowing peek in her direction as she turned to face the Bellas. "I think what Beca's trying to say," She starts slowly, running her tongue over her bottom lip before continuing. "Is that we have a lot of work to do if we want to keep the Bellas afloat. So, we all need to make an effort."

She then sends a helpful grin in Beca's direction, as though asking for the silent approval to take this practice under her wing. Beca couldn't be happier. After all, Chloe had been just about the only one today that hadn't caused a distraction, and had consistently kept up with routines and laps- although, she, too, had been subject to a diversion in attention after one of the other girl's had said or done something. She holds the look for a moment, before nodding briskly, and heading for the water bottle she had placed on the piano bench.

"I know we're all excited about our Halloween party," Chloe continues, and Beca finds herself rolling her eyes before she can stop herself. Glad that Chloe didn't see that little action, Beca tips her head back and takes a long sip of water. With each passing day, she was starting to regret that compromise quite a bit more, but it was approaching steadily, and there was nothing she could do to stop it now. "Which is why we'll just have to work extra hard next time. No complaints about cardio, I don't want to hear it."

Baulking, Beca nearly chokes on her water. Whirling around, face a blatant display of disbelief, she levels Chloe with a glare. She'd trusted the girl to take the reins and not, you know, let the girl's go early _despite_ the fact that they'd accomplished close to nothing. Chloe was already looking at her, ready to meet the look and making the international gesture with her hands that suggested ' _down girl'_. Around her, the girls began to disperse, grabbing their water bottles and bags from the floor and heading towards the door.

"Chloe," She hissed as the redhead approached, "We need to practice! The girls didn't do-"

"Anything, I know." The girl replies softly, lifting her towel from beside Beca's and dabbing at the thin layer of perspiration on her forehead. "But they weren't going to get anything done no matter how long we kept them here."

And Beca may have been able to concede to that idea, _maybe_. But the competitive part of her was starting to kick into a semi-panicked overdrive at the prospect of losing to DSM and the sheer fact that the girls weren't listening to her. And that was making her fix Chloe with an icy, unconvinced glare. Chloe just held her look. "But should we really be rewarding them for not-"

Chloe presses her index finger against Beca's lips, effectively shushing her. Indignant, the smaller girl steps back, the frustration only swelling inside her chest. "Becs, I want you to take a second," Chloe slings the towel over her shoulder, turning for her own water bottle on the piano bench. "and think about how much you sound like you're talking about a group of children. You need a break." She takes a long sip, and Beca does in fact take that pause in conversation to reflect. It _did_ sound like she was talking about misbehaving kids. Which probably said something about the group as a whole. The protest that had been working itself against Beca's lips dissipates in a relenting huff, however, as Chloe continues on, placing a gentle hand against her lower back, "You seem tense. Do you want a backrub when we get home?"

Beca blinks owlishly for a few moments- considering it for a split second- before shaking her head. "No. It's fine." Stepping out of the girl's reach, Beca heads for her own bag, left at the base of the bleachers. Chloe was quick on her heels, however, but she still kept a respectable amount of distance between them. And it wasn't as if it was a strange offer; the red-haired girl was always keen to offer that kind of assistance when Beca, or any of the other girls, seemed especially uptight. Usually Beca. Chloe was a gifted masseuse, too. One of her many talents that seemed to just pile up on one another, where at first the brunette had been absolutely taken aback- and a little bit jealous- of the nonstop discovery of Chloe's growing list of talents, she had now grown accustomed. Chloe Beale was just some kind of miracle.

"Okay, well, how about I let you skip out on more pumpkin carving tonight?" The girl suggests, and Beca could pretty much hear her wink through the playful inflection of her voice. Beca scoffs, leaning down to lift Chloe's bag up from beside her own, handing it off to the other girl.

"Gee, Chlo," Sarcasm drips from Beca's voice, as Chloe grabs the bag from her hands with a sincere smile. "You know how to bargain with a lady." Because over the past few days, she'd managed to talk Beca into carving two more in her free time. Which was about four pumpkins over Beca's annual carving quota. It was a good thing, though, because her coffee-donkey duties at Residual Heat called for her this evening.

"It _is_ a good bargain," Chloe affirms, falling into step with the shorter girl, as Beca hoisted her bag over her shoulder and headed for the exit. "Because there are a lot more pumpkins to carve before the big night tomorrow."

"You know, I'm not so sure drunks and fire are such a good combination."

"But drunks and Jack O' Lanterns sound like a great idea to me." There was a hopping bout of enthusiasm in her voice that tired Beca out for some reason. Glancing askance at the chipper girl, Beca raises her brows. "Don't burn down our home."

And with that, the girl was making a motion that indicated crossing her heart and swearing to be on her _best behaviour_ with an emphasis in her voice that sounded downright filthy. Beca chose to ignore that, not really sure she even _wanted_ to know what Chloe could mean by it. And then she was asking Beca about costumes for the party, causing Beca to scoff and tell her that she would be going as 'Beca'. Nothing more or less. Chloe pouted. Beca could tell she was convincing herself not to argue with her about that whole thing. She was probably weighing in the fact that she'd already bribed Beca into shopping with her this week and dressing a little bit fancier than usual for the up-and-coming dinner party thing. Still, even though the girl said nothing, Beca caught her disheartened glance her way that pretty much whined 'but it's _Halloweeeeeeen!_ '. She tried to toss aside the look, opting instead for probing around in the pocket of her bag, searching for her phone.

"Please." It was a soft, but no less whiny sound.

"No." Beca states, not bothering to look up at the girl as she locates her phone and pulls it to her. Seeing the puppy-dog eyes wouldn't help her composure.

"But it's _Halloween_ ," There it is. Chloe's hands grasp around Beca's right forearm momentarily, in an emphatic squeeze that, she supposed, was supposed to indicate either Chloe's excitement or desperation. "Last year you went as a vampire, remember? And I went as a gypsy?"

How could she forget. Talk about humiliating. "Yeah," Tersely, she scowls over at the girl alongside her. "Because you, Stacie, and Flo went on a Twilight bender and forced me because Stacie had glitter paint to spare and you found a pair of fangs in the dollar store."

At this recollection, Chloe managed to brighten even more. Cheeks pulling into a wide, toothy grin and straightening her back. "You looked wonderful."

"I moped the whole night."

"You were in character."

Rolling her eyes, Beca refocuses on her phone, seeing she had a few missed texts from Jesse. A small feeling of exasperation flared through her as she realized she didn't really want to see what it was that he wanted, but a distraction was a distraction.

 _did you want a ride today becaw_  
 _i can pick u up and say its date night_

Sighing, she slides her phone back into the pocket. The energy to answer just wasn't there. So she caves, glancing back in Chloe's direction. "What are you going as this year?"

Chloe meets her gaze with a spark of mischief. "Well, I'm saving my _real_ costume for Halloween night." She sighs, lifting her water bottle to her mouth again, speaking before tipping it back against her lips. "But it's a surprise."

"Oh," She muses, "Well if you get to do surprises, so do I."

"Becs," The redhead tuts, swinging the water bottle back down against her thigh. "You just told me you're going as _'Beca_ '. Therefore, it's not a surprise."

Foiled. She didn't really think that one through. She takes a moment to recover under the weight of Chloe's playful yet gravity-inducing look, trying to pinpoint what it was she could say to keep the conversation flowing. Her mouth falls open once before any words are ready to come out, and Chloe smirks. When Beca opens it again, another second later, she's managed to think something up. "Fine. I'll go as Beca's ghost. You can try to find me all night long."

Chloe's eyes narrow ever so slightly, taking the statement as a challenge. Hypothetical or not. "Sounds like fun."

There's a flirty intonation to the words spoken that takes Beca by surprise, making her replay the words and sound over in her mind a few times. Chloe being Chloe. She liked to flirt almost as much as Stacie did. Occasionally, though, Beca wasn't sure what to make of it, which lead her to dissect the interaction for a few moments. Which is what she was currently doing. Looping the last few sentences shared and chopping them up, trying to figure out how the redhead could so boldly and with such ease slip the dalliance into the conversation. Other times, Beca would end up so flustered that she would just end up calling Chloe weird and that was the end of it. Or, sometimes, depending on how she was feeling- she would indulge. Mostly because witty banter wasn't always something she was good at, so when the opportunity was there, she took it. This time she fell somewhere in the middle.

"Tons. I'll keep you looking, but then I'll just leave." Throwing a wry grin in the redhead's direction, Beca is met with an aghast gasp that only adds more kindling to the fire. "Maybe I'll lure you to the basement and then lock you in so you can spend time with the real ghost."

"Beca Mitchell!" Chloe reaches out, swatting Beca's arm indignantly. "You would never."

She then goes for a shrug she hopes comes off as casual, but there's still a tension wound up in her shoulders that probably gives her away. She sends Jesse a quick text back, letting him know that she'd see him outside of the Bellas house in a few hours. The rest of the walk back was mostly silent, aside from the two of them spotting Stacie straying from the usual route to track down someone who may be Paul but, neither of them were certain. It could be Stacie just pursuing another potential suitor. Sometimes, it was hard to keep a tab on who she was seeing or has seen, so Beca had never bothered to really try and she was pretty sure Chloe had long since given up.

* * *

Residual Heat was pretty much the usual. Sammy berated Dax a minimum of twelve times, Beca made nonstop loops delivering burritos and coffee, and someone called her 'Becky' and it momentarily transported her back to Luke addressing her in freshman year. What made it weirder was that he was trying to give her his number on the notion that 'they should get drinks' and then she had to explain that she did already have a boyfriend, but she was flattered. It of course came out as an awkward bumbling mess as she tried to retreat anywhere but in his general vicinity without coming off as rude or flighty. She had a feeling that she probably just came off as really weird. Afterwards, she'd taken the time to hide out in her usual stall and go over her few missed text messages from Jesse, and Amy, about nothing important in particular. She found it a bit strange that she hadn't received any from Chloe, but brushed it off with the thought that there was almost another three hours of her shift left. Taking on the usual sriracha stain growing in the fridge, Beca was pretty sure a year of her life was scared out of her as Sammy was suddenly snapping at her to change the paper towels, before whisking out of the kitchenette in his usual flair of sunglasses and narcissism.

Either way, she was relieved when seven o'clock rolled around and Jesse was waiting for her outside, leaning back against his car like it was some eighties movie. Upon noticing her exit of the building, she saw his grin widen, bringing his hands up to form a megaphone around his mouth. "Becaw!"

Rolling her eyes, Beca absently checks behind her, only somewhat hoping there was no one around to see him embarass her. She was in the clear. But, she still kept her head down as she hurried towards him.

"Becaw! How's my girl?"

Shooting him a testy glare as she approaches, Jesse drops his hands back down to his thighs, that hopelessly dorky smile not faltering for a second. "Good," She resolves, heading for the back passenger door so that she could toss her bag in. Her mind flickers back to the guy who she thinks was named Jacob, but in all honesty, she wasn't sure. So she couldn't be that irritated with him calling her Becky. But, she decides against telling Jesse- not because she's afraid he'd get jealous, but mostly because she doesn't want to relive the ignominy of the moment. "Well, like, the usual I guess." She clarifies, tossing the bag in and shutting the door before opening the front passenger one. Jesse is still beaming, coming around to the other side of the car and slipping into the drivers seat a moment after Beca had gotten herself buckled in.

"Well, that's good." He's as chipper as usual as he turns the key ignition, the car only making one questionable sputtering noise before starting up. "Are you going back to the Bellas house? Or did you want to come over?"

Beca goes over the options in her mind. There wasn't a doubt that she would be going back to the Bellas house, but a twinge of guilt strummed somewhere in her chest. Her time with Jesse had been limited recently, for no reason other than Beca had found herself becoming exasperated with the guy quicker than usual. Which made her not really want to kiss him, let alone move any further past that. And, Beca knew he was smart enough to probably notice it; although he hadn't said anything, being too polite and, she figured he didn't want to confront her and scare her off. Which was fair. Because she'd probably run out the same way she had earlier week. So, she had found herself idly wondering if Jesse was in denial- and then if _she_ was in denial- if her lack of interest in anything romantic with him had meant that she was somehow... falling out of... and, that's just the thing. She didn't even want to dare call it love. And, after four years together, that worried her.

But he was trying.

At least he was trying.

"Um." It's short, and there's an uncertainty about it that at least sounds convincing. But it wasn't because she was debating where to go. It was because she was debating where _they_ were going- as a couple. "I don't know, Jess. I have to try to get some choreo down for the Bellas thing coming up. I just sort of have the girls running in circles right now," It wasn't a lie. Their practices thus far didn't really have a lot of dancing, just workouts and vocal exercises.

He deflates. She can see it in her periphery, as subtle as it may be, but there nonetheless. The way his chest sort of drops, and his features harden for a moment. Become guarded. Upset. Disappointed. It kind of twists the knife in her gut. "Oh." He says, the drop in his voice evident, before he recovers. "That's okay. I understand. The Trebles have a lot of work to do, too. Especially with Bumper hanging around, he's sort of trying to... _add_ himself back in. And it doesn't really work like that." It's a weak attempt to change the topic, at best. Crack a joke at Bumper's expense, as if the guy's antics could save the pregnant pauses between their replies.

But at least he was trying. What could she say about her own efforts?

"Well," And she isn't really sure how to respond. How to make this better. "that's Bumper for you."

* * *

She'd stuck to what she'd said. When Beca got home, after grabbing a snack from the kitchen, and passing a few of the girls carving pumpkins or painting their nails on the living room floor, she'd holed herself up in her room and forced herself to work on choreo. Which meant she had to concrete their sets. And, before she knew it, her back was killing her and she'd been slumped in her chair for almost two hours without interruption, which she found strange. But, she was thankful, because after two near-mental-collapses, Beca was pretty sure she was happy with what she had produced. There was only one way to know for sure though.

Slipping her headphones off from around her head, she unplugged her laptop, and headed for the stairs. The girls were gone from the living room now, the only noise being Cynthia Rose in the kitchen. She can tell it's her by the thump followed by an utterance of an expletive, which leads Beca to believe the girl is making some kind of mess. She doesn't really care though. She'd only be worried if it were Amy- everyone else had the manners to clean up after themselves.

Scooting around a corner and past the door that lead to the basement, Beca comes to a halt outside of Chloe's room. The thought of the redhead being asleep crosses her mind, but she finds that unlikely because it's just shy of nine thirty, and even though Chloe was an _early-sleeper-early-riser_ most of the time, it would still be a bit soon for her. Mostly, though, that worry is dashed when upon listening, Beca can hear the soft strumming of an instrument from behind the door. She doesn't really want to interrupt. So she stands out there for a moment, opting to hear a pause in the rhythm or the soft, under the breath singing that accompanies it. She couldn't make out the words, and she wasn't familiar with the song, but it sounded nice. It was, once again, one of Chloe's many talents that she'd discovered in her sophomore year, once she moved into the Bella house.

 _"I didn't know you could play piano."_

 _"Oh, yeah. My dad used to have one, so I learned when I was little. You should hear Aubrey though, the girl has been in lessons since she was like, four. It's brilliant."_

 _"I can imagine. You're pretty good, though."_

 _"Thanks. I prefer it."_

 _"Prefer it? To what?"_

 _"Well, I can play some guitar, too. I got one when I was fourteen. I just kind of taught myself, so, I'm not great."_

It had baffled Beca at the time. How someone could be so musically inclined; sing, dance, play piano and guitar, and _who knows_ what else. She'd half-expected to witness Chloe pick up a saxophone one day and start blowing away. So, she'd inquired about any other musical instruments Chloe may have an ability with, and the redhead had informed her that she only knew how to play the two. Still, Beca was impressed, and only mildly ashamed when she had to admit in return that she didn't know her way around any instruments, other than the recorder she had learned to play _Hot Cross Buns_ on when she was in the fifth grade.

The lull came, and Beca tentatively knocked her knuckles against the wood. A moment later, she was being summoned in, and so she entered. Chloe sat on the foot of her bed, guitar balanced in her hands, wearing her pyjamas and bunny slippers. She looked adorable. Beca would never say that aloud unless she was held at gunpoint.  
"Hey." She greets, closing the door behind her. Chloe perks up. "Hey!"

Inclining her head towards the guitar, she takes a seat next to the girl. "What song was that?"

"Oh." The girl looks down at the guitar, shifting her fingers against the strings and strumming lightly. "Just like, a song from this old record I used to listen to as a teenager." And then, she leans forward, looking amused, "All angsty and super punk."

"No," Beca gasps, humouring the girl. "Chloe? An _angst-ridden teenager?_ Doubt it."

"Well," Chloe fiddles with the strings again, soft, mindless sounds leaving the instrument on her lap, "I'm sure you were probably angstier than I was. All that eyeliner and brooding."

Beca scoffs, but can't disagree. In all fairness, she didn't really know anything about Chloe's formitive years, but she did doubt that they could have been angstier than hers. Beca usually won in that department, believing she had a considerable amount of baggage. Which she then usually feels pretty shitty for thinking that, like she does right now, so she clears her throat and jiggles the laptop in her hands. "I'm done this set I think. Wanna listen?"

Chloe is like a kid on Christmas. She practically throws the guitar off of her and squeals, "OhmyGod, yes!"

Entertained by the enthusiasm of the girl across from her, Beca reaches up and removes the headphones from around her neck. Chloe is watching the whole movement, just about to bubble over with excitement. When Beca offers the headphones out to her, the girl is ready to take them without missing a beat, fastening them over her ears and giving Beca a thumbs up. It's a scene the old her would have been appalled over. She could imagine the younger version of herself, if she time-travelled to this moment, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, asking what on _earth_ was wrong with her. Depending on the mood, maybe knocking her present-self upside the head with a disapproving backhand. She'd then whirl around and snatch the headphones right off of Chloe's head. But, that wasn't the case. Her younger self couldn't transport here to witness the horror. And present-Beca had learned how to open up, how to accept that maybe she wasn't awful- or at least that's what Chloe told her whenever she let her listen to a mix. So, she doesn't get all fidgety when she hands Chloe her headphones and doesn't tell her to go kick rocks when she asks if she can hear what Beca is working on.

With the signalled thumbs up, Beca hits play and waits. Watches as Chloe closes her eyes, simply letting the music wash over her, nodding along slightly. It wasn't as if she was just grooving along to one of Beca's regular mixes, though. When that was the case, she would happily smile and wiggle in her seat. But, since this was a Bellas mix, there was an air of critique to her listening. A small crease between her brows, surely thinking about the choreo that could accompany the song, how the vocals could be achieved. Imagining the layering that could be done. Analyzing and dissecting the sounds.

The song ends, and Chloe is slipping the headphones off of her head, allowing them to fall over her neck. "I like it." She says, angling her body towards Beca. "I think it could work. We could do some really cool stuff for choreo,"

"Should we go with that?" She asks, glancing back at the screen. "Do I need to tweak anything do you think? I don't know how I feel about the chorus, I feel like-"

"Becs." A warm hand comes to sit atop of hers, cutting her off. Inhaling, she glances over at Chloe, who's staring right back with a fond smile. "You're babbling. It's amazing, as always."

The whirlwind of critiscms she has for herself sort of rush out of her with an exhale of air, making her feel lighter. Chloe seems to notice, or sense it, or catch on however she does with everything. It could be telepathy. Sometimes, Beca isn't sure how Chloe can be so observant or just inherently _know_ what it is a person is feeling. It wigs her out, from time to time. It makes her feel like Chloe might actually be a mutant with superpowers.

But then again, maybe everyone is that good and Beca is just oblivious. She's been told more than once.

"Okay." She puffs, but maybe tomorrow she'd fine-tune it a little bit more. Look at it with a fresh pair of eyes- and ears? Chloe sits back, removing her hand as she goes, leaving the skin of her hand feeling cold again. She can feel Chloe's eyes still on her though, not necessarily expectant, but it still makes Beca's skin crawl a little bit. Because she hates silence, but she didn't really want to go yet. The visit would have been to short. "So," She hedges, glancing at the redhead beside her. "Can you play, like, Ride the Lightning by Metallica?"

A surprised laugh bursts from Chloe at the request- Beca was joking, of course. She didn't really think the girl was going to start shredding it on her acoustic guitar. She reaches out to the brunette across from her, swatting her leg before raising her hand to the back of her neck to remove the headphones. "Mitchell, I don't need you here," But her grin is wide, and her eyes are so warm despite their cold colour that causes Beca to be unable to believe that even for a second.

"Oh?" She plucks the headphones from Chloe's hand, smile growing across her own lips as she watches Chloe try to glare at her. She's failing. "That's funny, because, the other night," The redhead must catch Beca's tone- the one she's come to use whenever she talks about _that night in the not-so-distant-past_ \- because she groans, throwing her head back and stares up at the ceiling. "When little miss Brownie Scout was zoinked out of her mind," She can see the smile twitch at the corner of Chloe's mouth, likely because she used the word _'zoinked_ '. "She said to me, ' _you're special, Becs, I'm so glad I have you'._ " Beca flutters her eyelashes, giving Chloe her best impression of puppy-dog eyes.

Chloe tips her head back, holding her chin to her chest as she regards Beca again- the slightest hint of a blush on her cheeks. _Bulls-eye!_ "Did I really?"

Beca just nods through the deep sense of self-satisfaction she feels at that. "You did."

And she can see that Chloe is trying to recover from this admittance without making it noticeable. There's still a flush to her cheeks, no matter how slight- but when Chloe is really embarrassed she has a tendency to cover her face with her hands. She's not doing that right now, however. Because Chloe knew her cards, and that meant she knew that _Beca also knew her cards._ Her version of poker face was furrowing her brow slightly, throwing Beca a truly wonderful side-eye that could have put Kimmy Jin to shame, and muttering. "Remind me to not stroke your ego next time."

"Yeah," She snorts, "Like _that'll_ happen."

"You are so cocky."

"Is this news?" Folding down the screen of her laptop, Beca smirks over at Chloe, who is still trying to scowl. Still failing. The brunette then leans over the other girl and discards the computer next to Chloe's forgotten guitar.

"You know," Chloe starts, as Beca leans back. "You're a real inconvenience."

And there's a beat where they just stare at each other. With varying degrees of rue that aren't genuine, nor are they trying particularly hard to seem so. Beca's mind is too busy being occupied with the buzzing notion that she is very comfortable right now, as if being in Chloe's presence was distraction enough for any stress she may have been harbouring. As if her sunny disposition created a block from accessing that channel of her brain. "Sorry." She finally says, not bothering to even pretend to be sincere with that, either. She knows Chloe wasn't being serious, because Chloe is a pretty shit liar, if she's going to be honest. So even when she's pretending to lie, it has never once come across as convincing, Beca doesn't think.

Unless she's being coy about something. That's a different story.

And then there's a moment where Chloe's face seems to fall, or slip away, very slowly. Her expression taking on an unreadable, albeit maybe thoughtful appearance. It hits Beca like a cold front, shocking her out of her mind and allowing her to revisit the present in full attention. Creasing her brow, she watches as the redhead exhales heavily through the nose and readjusts the instrument behind her so that she can lay back, with her legs still dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Chlo?" Looking down at the girl, now sprawled across the bedsheets, Beca tucks her feet under her body and angles towards the girl.

Chloe's eyes roam back over to Beca, regarding her before her mouth slips into a small smile. It wasn't spiteful, it was fond, but her words still took Beca by surprise. "Do you think we'll be able to come back from Muffgate?"

She knows that Chloe is asking her realistically. Not optimistically. Not anticipating a positive answer, not willing to be spoon-fed anything that could possibly be a lie to pacify her conscience for a while longer. She wanted what Beca really thought. Which was a bit of a solemn thing to comprehend for Beca, because she wasn't even sure what, realistically, the chances were. She'd sort of been accommodating her own concerns about the issues by telling herself that they could make it just fine. That there wasn't anything she ought to _actually_ be worrying about. Denial was something Beca was pretty good at doing if she didn't want to stand up and face a problem; which, she often didn't like to do.

But, here Chloe was, laying against her bedspread with a lazy, but quietly anxious sort of smile, asking Beca for her thoughts on the topic. The honesty threw her off guard for a moment, which she spent blinking, staring back down at the girl. And she didn't want to say anything negative. Not to Chloe- who had spent so many years, not to mention those extra few- hanging around because the Bellas were something that made her so happy. To even _think_ about saying all that time could have been for nothing, for them to start running around like a headless chickens, made Beca feel weak. She didn't _want_ it to be for nothing. She'd maybe never been quite as passionate as Chloe had about the Bellas, but they were still her... _family_. The Bellas, as an organization, had still given Beca something that she wasn't positive she needed until she realized how much she'd been missing. So, for all of that to be obliterated in thirty seconds because of a wardrobe malfunction and Amy's inability to wear underwear at appropriate times?

It hurt her, too.

"I think..." She pulls her lips between her bottom teeth, mulling the words over in her mind. "we can. But I also think," She frowns. It was a sensitive thing to deliver, no matter which way she cut it. "It's probably unlikely. You know? We... really have to figure things out."

Chloe nods, her smile slipping away as she seemed to contemplate Beca's words, eyes roving along the roof. Beca sighs, there was a heaviness in the room now that was a little bit depressing; considering she hadn't yet voiced that opinion to herself, let alone _aloud_ , to another person. Chloe had that ability, though. To draw the words from whoever she was speaking with; there was just something so damn trustworthy about those blue eyes and the way she always seemed to know what to do with her face, how to keep it as heartfelt or as stern as it needed to be. "I think we can do it." It's soft, almost inaudible.

"I think we can, too." Uncertainly, Beca reaches out and puts her hand atop of Chloe's, who had folded them neatly over her stomach. "We have to work _really_ hard though. I don't think the girls get that."

The red-haired girl lets out a long drawn sigh, snaking one hand out from underneath Beca's and clamping it overtop instead. She feels her lips twitch at the contact; it was so easy and it didn't make Beca want to writhe out of her skin- despite the fact that there was something intimate about it. "They're too distracted." Chloe murmurs, crease forming between her brows. "About graduation, about life. About the little things."

"Like the Halloween Bash I don't know why I encouraged?"

The somber disposition fades, ebbs away quickly like the coming of a tide, as Chloe giggles. She can feel the reverberation from within Chloe's gut under her hand. "Oh, Becs," The girl grins, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and holding Beca's gaze for a long moment, before pulling her hands away from Beca's and instead fastening one around the brunette's wrist and heaving herself upwards in a flash movement to catch Beca's neck in the crook of her elbow. Beca shrieks- or, really, makes more like some kind of loud vowel sound of protest- as Chloe falls back against the mattress, taking Beca with her. "It makes them so happy!"

Sputtering, Beca wiggles in the other girl's stronghold around her neck- as she was currently being buried in shoulder. With a grunt, she manages to escape Chloe's grip from her wrist and she uses that circumvent to gain leverage against Chloe's hip and push herself up. "It makes me _unhappy._ " She argues, scowling down at the girl, who still had a lock around her neck and a shit-eating grin on her stupid little face.

"It makes _me_ happy." Chloe raises her brows, jutting her bottom lip out in a pout that makes Beca want to smother her with a pillow. She doesn't do quite that though. She instead moves the hand that had been keeping her in a semi-upright position and gently pushes the girl's face away from her. Chloe sort of squeals through her laughter, allowing Beca to snake out of her grasp completely.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Chloe gasps, as Beca readjusts to lay on her back next to the girl, partially wondering if that was a bad idea, just in case she retaliates.

Smirking, Beca half shrugs against the mattress. "I told you I know where you sleep."

"That's not the visit I wanted." Chloe whines, flipping onto her side so that she could properly look at Beca. Witness the split second of consusion come to play across her face.

"Not the-? _Dude!_ " As soon as the inflection hits her she can feel her ears begin to warm, travelling steadily down into her cheeks. Chloe laughs, which only irks Beca more. Exasperatedly, she nudges the girl next to her with her elbow. "You're such a pervert, oh my _God!_ " Chloe only laughs harder, and although Beca refuses to look at her in this moment, she can tell she must be trying to suppress it by pressing her lips together. It only made the blush deepen. "You're incorrigible." She continues, shaking her head, "Do you ever turn it off?"

"No." Chloe manages through her laughter. She should have expected as much.

Lolling her head against the mattress, Beca crosses her arms over her chest. The feeling of Chloe's eyes was still on her, and she felt squirmy. But not so much that she wanted to leave. She was used to it, after all. "Stop watching me blush."

"Why're you blushing, Becs?" The woman teases, faux innoncence oozing it's way into her words. "Are you..." And then there are fingers, nimble and quick walking their way up her forearm, " _up to something_ over there? It seems fun, whatever it is, with a blush like that."

Beca actually feels her eyes roll back in her sockets; desperately trying to find the closest thing to an actual hole to go die in. "Stop!" She pleads, throwing her hands over her face- because if she was blushing before, she assumes she was absolutely tomato red by now. "Shut up."  
Chloe giggles again, and Beca braves to finally look at the girl through the slats between her fingers. "You're the worst." It's muffled by her hands, but the accusatory tone is still delivered sharply. The girl next to her seems to take pride in this announcement, because she straightens up, even though she's still laying down, and she stiffles another chuckle.

"I'm the best." She responds cheekily, prodding Beca in the side with her index finger.

"Are not."

"Oh please," Chloe rolls her eyes, jabbing her a bit more roughly this time. "Becs, what would you even do without me?"

Without Chloe, she would not have currently been in the Bellas, probably. The largest and most obvious difference in her life. But say, she had made it this far and Chloe suddenly ceased to exist or moved away or something; then Beca would probably be knee-deep in shit. She'd have no idea who to do choreography with. She'd have no idea who to run sets over with. She'd probably have no idea when her dentists or doctors appointments were without Chloe there to remind her or write it down somewhere it won't get lost. She'd have no idea who to go to when she felt like her head was going to explode in a swarm of angry hornets. All things considered, her life would certainly be lacking it's usual luster.

"Um, I'd probably have a semi-normal life?" Is what she offers instead, dropping her hands to give Chloe a sarcastic smile. "I would't be afraid of public showers?"

Chloe gapes. "One time! It was _one time!_ Get over it."

"I don't know, I'm a bit traumatized. Sometimes, I have like, nightmares, where I'm in the shower and all the sudden, the curtain pulls back, and there's like a serial killer or like, all of Barden, or- you know, when I'm actually in the showers, sometimes I think I hear a noise and I-" It's a load of crap, she's just piling it on to get a rise out of Chloe. It works.

"God, you're such a drama queen," The girl throws her head back as she gripes, tilting it forward just as quickly to look at Beca through a veil of red curls and playful giddiness. "You're lucky I put up with you."

" _Me?_ " Beca's baulks, clamping her tongue between her teeth in order to repress the smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Do you have any idea what it's like putting up with _you_ everyday?"

She shakes her head vehemently in response. "I don't, but," Making a sweeping motion at Beca's general self, Chloe twists her lips in a show of distaste. "I'm sure it's not worse than all this." And while Beca stammers for a few fake seconds of scorn, she feels that swell of comfort that she doesn't often feel. The real, actual feeling that makes her glad to be in a presence of somewhere, something, someone. And the acknowledgment of that made her feel like a softie, but she didn't think long on it. Because it was _okay_. She'd come to realize that it _didn't_ ruin things, no matter what she previously thought. Her walls were, when surrounded by the Bellas, unnecessary most of the time. And she could appreciate that. It was tiring. Her freshman self, while she might be sickened by the display of the scene currently happening, had been exhausted and crabby because of it. And Beca didn't like to think she was really any less crabby- but she was less exhausted, she'd gained momentum out of the slow lowering of the drawbridge out of her brick walls. The ability to move forward.

That didn't mean she liked to dwell on the mushy stuff though. In fact, she _still_ hated it. Even if she lived it a lot more often.

"I wouldn't be so sure." She finally cracks, matching Chloe's expression and pointedly sweeping her eyes over the girl's form. And then she feels a mischevious Grinch smile spread across her lips, as she sighs, "I mean, the other night, you-"

"Oh my God, shut. _Up!_ " Chloe all but wails, despite the fact that her lips had broken into a toothy grin and she was smacking at Beca's legs this time. Crying out, Beca squirms away from the assault, doing her best impression of a worm as she tries to scooch away from the girl. "You're relentless. I'm going to strangle you." Her fists ball up at her sides as she watches the brunette put a small amount of distance between them, just enough to get out of Chloe's arm-reach.

Frustrated Chloe, Beca concludes, is one of her favourite kinds of Chloe. She was just not intimidating, no matter how hard she tried, and she didn't usually get herself worked up to such a state. Which is why Beca is snickering, the vision of Chloe battling Aubrey for the Pitch Pipe back in her freshman year unfolding itself from the depths of her mind and flashing to her conscience. The slightly higher octave of her voice, strained with annoyance- or, in this case, a mixture of annoyance and amusement- the emotions brightly colouring her eyes. She was about as intimidating as a baby red panda.

"Oh," It doesn't take a second thought to reject the idea. "Go carve another pumpkin, Beale."

And that's the final straw, it seems, because Chloe is pushing herself off of the mattress and following Beca's minute path over the sheets, throwing her hands out to block Beca's own. Because the moment the redhead stirred Beca's laughter could no longer be contained and she was throwing her arms out in self defense. Chloe battles her way through Beca's breathless protests and flailing limbs, eventually finding spot basically straddling Beca's waist. With a grunt of determination, she pins Beca's hands against the bed, and shifts so that her knees are pressing into her upper arms, keeping her pinned while she removes her hands. All too aware of the positioning, and Beca's absolute hopeless chance of pulling herself out from under her, she begins to struggle. _This_ was the retaliation. Her mother always told her that her big mouth would get her killed one day, and she thinks for a moment this might be the end. "Are you going to stop holding that over my head?" Chloe asks, leering down at her through narrowed eyes.

She at least pretends to think about it for a moment. "No, probably not."

Scowling a challenge, Chloe twists her upper body around, looking at Beca over her shoulder as she reaches out to grab onto the brunette's foot. A white-hot burst of panic skyrockets through Beca's body and she's wiggling with a newfound desperation to flee under her captor's grip. "Chloe, no!" She scolds, kicking her legs out to evade the hand coming it's way. "Don't. Don't you dare."

"Then let it go, Becs." The redhead dares, blue eyes daggers as her fingers find a hold around the girl's right ankle. And Beca can't- as much as she wants to, she can't.

She holds the ability to mock Chloe too dear to her.

"I'll kill you." She warns again, her foot frantically kicking out in hopes to shake Chloe. But she's too strong.

The girl furrows her brow in return, twisting her other arm around in attempt to remove Beca's sock. "There's been a lot of death threats in this room today."

She cringes as the sock is removed from her foot, tossed carelessly to the side by a girl who is looking at Beca with a little bit too much malice for her to be entirely comfortable with. "Well, maybe if you stopped rough-housing," She kicks again, trying to use her opposite foot to beat away Chloe's hands.

Frowning, Chloe jabs back at the offending limb with her elbow, all while moving her her fingers down to hover near the base of Beca's foot. "One last chance, Mitchell."

She held fast. Returning Chloe's stare with one even moreso daunting, the kind that told Chloe to do her worst. So, she did. Her fingers tickled their way around Beca's exposed foot, and she writhed and objected under the attack, trying to squirm her way out of the grasp in every way possible. Kicking, jolting, trying and failing to remove her arms out from under Chloe's legs, but the girl didn't relent. Her fingers were feather-light and excrutiating against the arch of her foot and around her heel.

"White flag!" She finally cried, after what was probably a full minute of nonstop torture.

"Say Uncle!"

"Uncle!"

Chloe dropped her hands and rolled herself off of Beca the moment the word left her mouth in a breathless puff. The redhead plopped down next to Beca with enough force to cause the mattress to bounce beneath her, and she quickly took the opportunity to cross her ankles, trying to fold herself into the least vulnerable position she could. Chloe was still smiling. Smug. Beca held her gaze for a full count to ten before declaring, "I hate you."

And it was funny, how such a derogatory statement could be translated into an expression of affection. And it was clearly delivered as such when Chloe's beam only grew, her response warm and holding that familiar level of comfortable that Beca was starting to get used to. "I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

**This is a really long chapter, guys. Whew! Thank you for the continued support, reviews make my day ;)  
**

* * *

Chloe wouldn't call telling Stacie a mistake, not quite. An unfortunate slip of the tongue she would take back if she could, maybe. But, what's done is done, as her father always said; and there's no going back. The best you can do is hope it isn't too messy, and clean up what you need to. Luckily for her though, it's _not_ too messy. Stacie had kept that little secret between the two of them; fastened in the bond of their bi-monthly wine nights. _The Conrad-Beale bond,_ as Stacie had called it.

What happens at wine night, stays at wine night.

With the exception of coy teasing. Because that was second nature, to both of them.

So, while holed up in Stacie's bedroom, with some Ryan Gosling movie on in the background, manicure sets sprawled over the floor, and almost three glasses of red wine in; that's when it slips out. She doesn't think about it. Not really. Not until it's out in the open, and Stacie is looking at her with a whole new piqued interest. But the conversation had been flowing and free, allowing the perfect moment for that little tidbit of information to drop.

"Paul's great. I think I'm gonna keep him around for a while," Stacie had sighed, holding her hand out at a distance and observing the work done on her French tips.

Chloe nods, the wine glass at her lips as she speaks. "Yeah. He seems cool."

"Yeah." Stacie sighs, swapping hands, "I mean, he's wonderful and all. He's kind of dumb as a bag of rocks, though. Having a conversation is so hard."

She'd still been nodding through her sip, a crease forming between her brows as she placed the cup back onto the stool beside her. She could relate to the younger Bellas issue; it had been her own for a long time. And Stacie was smarter than meets the eye; hell, Chloe would probably wager that the girl had a higher IQ than she did- so finding a stimulating conversation partner would be very difficult indeed. "That's the worst." She sympathizes. "In my freshman year, before I met Tom, I was talking to this guy, Ashton or something. He was gorgeous," She throws a knowing look in Stacie's direction, before dropping her gaze to the various colours of nail polish in front of her. "But, it felt like I was talking to a tree. He was so _boring_."

The brunette groans, carefully plucking a white nail polish pen from the heap and perfecting some of her work. "What is it with guys? Why can't they hold an actual conversation for the life of them?"

Now, Chloe shakes her head. She didn't know the answer to that one. "Just keep fishing, Stace. You'll snag the whole package eventually."

"What about you?"

Chloe looks up at the girl from under her brow. "What about me?"

Stacie meets her gaze with her own. Green eyes locking on blue as she rolls them in exasperation. "Well, I mean, are you seeing anyone? I haven't even seen you with anyone except for Tom."

And there it is. The question that makes Chloe pause and think; because she hadn't really expected anyone to have noticed. It strikes her as silly, though, the moment she catches on to her own belief. _Of course_ the Bellas would notice, it was only a matter of time before someone said something. They were a bunch of nosy brats- herself included. That's why Beca never brought Jesse over, lest she wanted a group of girls to be spying on them the whole time. Actually- she's a bit surprised this hasn't happened sooner.

"Well," She starts, and the word comes out surprisingly weak. "Remember that guy from that one party back... well, your sophomore year?"

Stacie's brows knit together in contemplation, and then she hums as she recalls the memory. "Right. Besides him."

 _And._.. that was it. Because she hadn't been interested in anyone else, not for a while now. The only hard part about that was explaining it. Stacie seems to notice her hesitation though, as she hedges onwards, "Are you not interested in anyone? Is that it? Have you just not met someone?"

Her shoulders lift in a limp shrug, and Chloe turns for her wine again. "Just haven't been looking, I guess." It was evasive, and _damn it_ even she knew it. She was such a shit liar.

Stacie most definitely doesn't miss the tone, and she's setting the pen back down, grabbing her wine glass, and leaning forward. A glint of mischief in her eyes as she regards the girl across from her; anxiously gulping down a swig of the liquor herself. "There is _so_ someone." She concludes, pursing her lips into a smug smirk as she raises her own glass to them. "Do I know him? I totally do, don't I?" She gasps, despite Chloe's lack of response. "Is it a Treble?"

Chloe finds her grin bashful, needing a moment to break away from the eye contact, she glances at the television screen. Ryan is currently looking out a window, brooding about something. Probably a lost love. She wasn't sure though, she doesn't remember this movie. "It's not like that oath is even a thing anymore,"

"So it _is_ a Treble." Stacie taps the pads of her fingers against her glass thoughtfully. "Who? The cute blonde one? The curly haired one? Or is it- is it Benji?" Dropping her head into her free hand, Chloe shakes her head. She had two options- lie, probably very unconvincingly about who it was- or fess up. Stacie then gasps again, her voice lowering to a very scandalous whisper. "Is it _Jesse?_ "

"No," Chloe sighs, pulling her face from it's cover and setting the glass back down. The decision has been made. She links her hands together gently in her lap, inhaling a grounding breath through her nose. It was sort of like a yoga breath- before one had to do some kind of supremely difficult and most likely painful contortion of their body. Stacie sits back on her hunches, taking a long sip of her wine and watching as Chloe readied herself to speak. "It's not Jesse. It is actually someone you know though, but, promise to like, not make a deal? Cause it's like, it's not a big thing."

Stacie nods passionately, suppressing an excited grin.

An airy, nervous laugh escapes her before she decides to just throw caution to the wind. Get it over with. Speak it aloud and let the chips fall where they may. "It's Beca." Throwing her hands up as a sign of uncertainty, she allows an equally unsure smile to set across her face.

The girl across from her blinks owlishly a few times. Chloe could see the gears turning in her head as she processed the information, thinking it through. And then her mouth falls open in a small _'o'_ shape, eyelashes fluttering a whirlwind as she snaps her jaw closed again with an audible collision of her teeth. She assumes that was the moment it really sunk in. " _That._.. makes sense."

And for once, Chloe isn't entirely sure what to say to that. Part of her wanted to ask Stacie to clarify, how it ' _made sense_ '- did that mean she'd been obvious? The other part of her wanted to not dwell on the confession, try to brush it aside as she usually did. There was a manic part of her, however, that wanted to go further into detail- really talk it out with the buxom brunette across from her. Gush. As she typically would when a new beau came into her life. But Beca was _not_ a new beau, she was a close friend- and spewing a tirade of soppy affections and admiration for the girl felt like it could be potentially crossing a line. "Yeah, it's," She starts, a crease forming between her brows as she weighs out the appropriate course of action. "new." That's what she settles on. Not entirely a lie, not entirely a truth, either, though.

Stacie kind of reminds her of the Cheshire Cat with the grin that spread over her lips once the shock faded. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Chloe watches as Stacie takes another sip of wine, eyes not leaving her for a moment. "Is this like, a collegiate experimenting thing?"

"Maybe." Something tells her it's not. It's been long enough, and Chloe has dipped into that pool, already. Nothing past first base, mind you, and every time it happened it was aided by liquid courage- but, her attraction to Beca had been a steady background hum for her ever since her first senior year. It didn't come and go. It was on a low burning flame, ever present, with the occasional spike before it returned to a manageable simmer.

Stacie gives her a cheeky grin, rising to her feet with a knowing sigh. "Chloe, Chloe, _Chloe_ ," She tuts, gliding to her night table, where the half-empty bottle of wine had taken residence. "You _sly fox,_ you. Beca Mitchell," Stacie whistles, grabbing the bottle around the neck and returning to where she had been seated. And, Chloe knew exactly what the younger girl was getting at; and it was that Chloe was in a pickle. Pouting, she watched as Stacie stooped over to top up her own glass, before wordlessly hovering the bottle over the ginger's own cup. She nods, and Stacie tops her up as well, before returning back to the night stand. "That is an interesting situation."

"It's nothing," Chloe assures, raising the glass to her mouth and taking a long sip. The brunette arches a very disbelieving brow, drifting back over to her spot on the floor.

"She'd be a tough cookie to crack." Stacie muses, mimicking the other girl's action and pressing the rim of the cup against her lips. "And that's before you throw Jesse into the whole mess."

A disregarding noise somewhere between a hum and a grunt leaves Chloe's mouth, as she finishes swallowing another mouthful of liquid. "I'm not, like, pursuing it. It's just- it's there."

Stacie twists her lips to the side, eyes trailing away thoughtfully for a few moments. "Well," The girl manages, after a pregnant pause, "At least we know that she has a soft spot for you." She ends the statement with a wink that's definitely indicating that she's suggesting something- but that's about as far as Chloe gets, the actual suggestion soaring over her head.

"What're you getting at?"

The girl rolls her eyes again. "Beca. She's a total softie for you."

And with that, Chloe snorts. "Beca is a _softie_ in general, Stace. Her badass exterior is totally a front."

"I know that," Stacie groans, waving her wine glass in her hand. "But like, she totally caves whenever you ask her to do something. She never does anything for me when _I_ ask."

The topic had dropped after that, for the most part. Other than the occasional remark from Stacie, and the totally joking offer to take Beca's place, if Chloe was up for it. Something a wine-buzzed Chloe thought about for a little bit too long, if you ask her, but harmless nonetheless.

When she'd woken up the next morning, she hoped Stacie was drunker than she appeared, and that there could be the chance she forgot all about it. That wasn't the case. It was unsaid, but upon her next encounter of Chloe and Beca in the same room together, she'd caught Chloe's eyes with her own and a knowing smirk over her lips. That's when Chloe knew she was hooped; but the _Conrad-Beale bond_ secured that juicy bit of gossip between the two of them.

* * *

That's how she ends up here, in the passenger seat of Beca's car, Stacie in the rear, and the tiny brunette behind the wheel. The two of them had persisted on Beca driving them to the liquor store- or, that one convenience store with the liquor aisle that was cheaper than going to an actual liquor store- to stock up before the Halloween bash later that night. Chloe and Beca had gotten into a brief spat about the proper pronunciation of _'caramel_ ' before Chloe had caught the look of mischief twinkling in Stacie's green eyes through the rearview mirror.

"What's your say, Stace?" She asks, twisting around in the front seat to face the other girl.

Stacie raises her eyebrows, "Oh, Beca's right. It's definitely _care-a-mel_."

" _Ha_!" Beca gloats, tossing the girl in the passenger seat a superior look before turning her eyes back to the road. "Suck it, Beale."

Betrayed, Chloe's mouth falls open, and she glares daggers at the other girl. "I'm still not convinced."

"Sore loser." Beca mutters, through a smirk, that causes Chloe to shift her gaze from the brunette in the backseat to the much smaller one in the driver's. A retort jumps to the tip of her tongue, but she finds herself being cut short; startled instead by the vibration that shoots through her thigh, where her phone was resting in her lap. Assuming there was plenty of time to have this argument, she flips it over so that the screen is facing up, her frown only deepens when she sees who it's from.

 **Stacie:**  
 _lol you have such an angry toner right now_

Inhaling sharply, Chloe refuses the urge to send her friend a look that warrants death through the rearview mirror; only because she isn't sure how she'd explain that unprovoked look if Beca caught her.

 _Shut up._  
 _I do not._

Stealing a glance in Beca's direction; who's smug grin had dissipated in return of her usual, thoughtful expression. She didn't have to think twice to predict that the girl was thinking particularly hard about something. She had that quirk to her expression where her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, Chloe had first caught onto that little aberration somewhere in the girl's sophomore year, when they'd actually began collaborating on routines. It was endearing. She'd spotted it again, whenever it was exam time, and she- on rare occasion- witnessed Beca actually studying. That's also where she'd noticed one of Beca's- _many_ \- nervous habits that formed whenever she was stressed or agitated. Beca would squeeze the back of her neck, sometimes so repeatedly until the skin was irritated and pink. After that, Chloe feels she has gotten quite good at picking up on the smaller habits; the more personal ones, the mindless ones. Of course, she'd always had a knack for reading people, and body language. To her, it was fascinating, the amount that could be conveyed through the simplicity of movements, so she'd started paying attention to what hers said and how she could pull apart what others told her.  
She especially liked the way Beca's eyes lit up when she got argumentative- no matter about what, as long as it was nothing serious. The way she looked at Chloe, the way her lips would twitch into the beginnings of a smile, when she realized it was just teasing. Or, even, when she was more serious, the way her jaw set and her eyes darkened. She might be scary when she's angry, but Chloe still likes it. Can appreciate it.

So maybe it was a toner, and it was blaringly obvious to Stacie, because maybe Chloe _was_ ogling those attributes when they showed up.

 _I told you that believing it would be confidential._

She adds, after a moment's reflection and before Stacie can berate her for lying. Trying to. Denying, was maybe more like it.

 **Stacie:**  
 _oh its confidential Red. but that doesnt mean i dont have harassment rights ;)_

Logically, Chloe would like to argue that _no_ , she _didn't_ , because she never permitted such rights- nor would she ever. Beca saves her from having to squabble over that, however, when she comes to a stop at a red light and casts a look over her shoulder at Stacie. "Are you bringing... what's his name?"

Blinking, Stacie sets her phone down on the seat. "Paul?" She supplies, "I wasn't going to, but then I figured since he gave us the equipment, it'd only be fair to invite him."

Chloe hums in understanding, while Beca at the same time muses, "Good point." And then the car is moving forward again and taking a left turn.

Once at the store, Beca parted ways with the redhead and the leggy brunette to do her own grocery shopping while they picked out the booze they desired. At the appropriate aisle, they came to a stop, while Stacie fished out a folded half piece of paper she had stored somewhere in her bra and/or cleavage. It was the stock-count of alcohol currently at the Bellas household; they'd made sure to take inventory before they'd left.

Getting onto her tiptoes, Chloe peeks over the woman's shoulder in order to take another look at what they were working with.

"Half a bottle of vodka," Stacie recites, one finger skimming along the paper as she read, "half a bottle of fireball. Almost a dozen breezers. And, two-thirds of a bottle of Jager."

"No tequila?"

Shaking her head, Stacie folds the paper back up and returns it between the fabric of her bra. "Nope."

Prowling along the shelves, Chloe scans the labels until she finds it. Holding up two bottles, she raises her eyebrows and, naturally, asks the brunette for her advice on which size they should get. And, naturally, Stacie points to the bigger one. After they decide on picking up another pack of breezers, just for good measure, and some sour fruity mixer ( _"We can make Icies!"_ ), the two were leaving the aisle.

"It's always nice when the Bellas are in good shape for alcohol before we have to come here." Chloe remarks, stopping by the pop aisle to grab a bullet of Coke and Ginger Ale.

"Right?" The buxom girl grabs one of the bullets from Chloe's hands and cradles it against her side, the other hand carrying the pack of breezers. Slipping the remaining bullet into her basket alongside the two bottles of alcohol, she sighs.

"Guess we go find Becs now," Which was easier said than done. The two wandered between aisles, searching for the familiar short stature of the girl- targeting the junk food aisles and the cereal aisles before heading to the more unlikely areas of the store. No luck anywhere.

After an unsuccessful trek through the frozen food aisle, Stacie frowns. "Do you think we should do Jesse's birdcall thing and see if she comes?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, removing her phone from her back pocket and unlocking the screen. "I'll text her."

Her thumbs are hovering over the screen for a moment, formulating the quick _'where are you?'_ message, and then preparing to hit send when the brunette beside her was suddenly nudging her in the ribs. "There!" Stacie hisses, pointing a finger around the bottle she held to indicate in the direction back into the frozen foods aisle. "Three o'clock,"

Spinning on heel, Chloe follows the girl's line of sight, a petite brunette catching her eye. She must've been just behind them, rising onto her tiptoes and reaching for something in an upper shelf of the fridge components. She couldn't help but grin, watching as the smaller girl struggles to grab at something.

"Let's go," She sighs, slipping the phone back into her pocket and heading towards the other girl, Stacie on heel. Beca notices them approach, sheepishly backing away from the fridge and straightening her shirt with her free hand, the one not holding onto the basket of groceries. Chloe chances a peek down; Lucky Charms, some carrots, energy bars, a few cans of ravioli or some other kind of quick-make pasta. Good old Beca, she was surprised the girl wasn't suffering from some kind of nutrients deficiency. With that thought, her eyes flicker up to the top shelf, searching to see what it was the girl was straining to reach; which was a case of energy drinks. "Having a hard time?" She smirks, and the flush becoming prevalent on Beca's ears at being caught struggling was absolutely adorable.

"What? No-" The strain in Beca's voice as she shakes her head was a dead giveaway. "No-I,"

"Want a boost?" She offers, raising her eyebrows at the shorter girl. Stormy blues narrow, and Beca was stubbornly holding her ground as she shakes her head. "No I don't."

Beside her, Chloe hears Stacie snort, and she throws an amused look the girl's way. Beca was about as convincing as an eleven year-old gangster. She was about as easy to aggravate as one, too. Chloe runs her tongue along her bottom lip, soaking in the way Beca was trying to recover from being caught, and her ego was so endearing. Chloe just had to give her a moment. Wait for her to ask. Shrugging, Chloe turns back to the shorter girl, "If you say so. Are you almost done?"

Beca blinks. "Um." Those eyes flicker from the two girl's around her, and then back up to the shelf. "Yeah, almost done. Yeah."

"Great." Chloe beams.

"Yeah," Beca says again, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears and then casting a look back at the redhead, "You guys can head to the cashier. I'll be there in a sec,"

"Oh," Stacie pipes up, scooting to the side to allow an elderly man- who seemed either appalled or awed at Stacie's whole being- past her. "If you're almost done, Bec, we can wait. Might as well head over there together."

"It's fine," Beca says quickly, pressing a smile onto her face that Chloe can definitely read as forced in a heartbeat. "Really, you don't need to wait for me,"

Sighing, Chloe turns around, catching Stacie's eye as she goes, subtly throwing the girl a wink. Just so that she's on board with the angle the redhead is playing at. "Sure, Becs," It's heavy and breathless, following her heavy exhale, "Whatever you say."

They leisurely make their way out of the aisle; smirking to one another. Without even looking, Chloe knew that Beca was probably waiting for them to be out of eyesight before trying again. Already embarrassed once, and all that. "She's so stubborn," Stacie whispers as they round the corner, stopping just on the other side of the frozen foods section.

"Tell me about it," It had been how many years now, and Beca's badass reputation couldn't even be soiled a little by asking for help? She was certainly independent, Chloe could grant her that much. And something told her she always had been.

Maybe she always needed to be.

Chloe was no stranger to Beca's past; while she never outwardly opened up about anything, she could connect the dots. Her dad had left- around the start of highschool or end of middle school, somewhere around that point in time. She knew this because Beca had once offhandedly joked about him skipping out on her ' _awkward stage_ '. Afterwards, it'd been her and her mom- who, by the sounds of it, was pretty depressed about the whole thing, although Beca only spoke about it through a veil that suggested that she couldn't see why, considering they fought so much. And then her mom had passed away somewhere towards the end of highschool, and she bounced around a bit between familial households until her father finally came back and decided he wanted her around after all. _Total_ dick move. Chloe had only met the guy on few occasions, and she didn't like to pass judgement too quickly on anyone, but the more knowledge she gained about the situation, the more she disliked him. And maybe he was genuine now, and trying to make up for it, but still.

Snaring her bottom lip between her teeth, Chloe pokes her head around the corner again; trying to gauge how Beca was making out on her mission. She seems to look just at the right time, clearly, because Beca has just given up on stretching to her greatest length and has calculated, and taken the chance at using the bottom of the fridge as a ladder. However, just as she brings her body weight upwards, the foot bracing itself against the slippery hard plastic slips from under her and she sort of half falling, half grappling her way back down. Hands empty. Resisting the urge to giggle, Chloe motions for Stacie to join in on the peeping. It was going very well, after all.

The tall brunette places a hand on Chloe's shoulder, craning her neck so that she could join in on the spy session. If Beca knew that Chloe- or even Stacie, for that matter- had just seen her little slip-up, she'd be mortified. But Beca had been holding the _totally accidental_ brownie incident over her head since it had happened, so Chloe didn't feel so guilty knowing this. And Stacie, well; Stacie just didn't like to miss out on anything fun. She was, for the most part, able to be totally unfazed when it came to almost anyone calling her out or teasing her, which meant she was totally immune to almost all of Beca's defense mechanisms. In other words; Beca didn't scare her.

The other woman seems to recollect herself, staring up at the pack of energy drinks for a long, deflating moment. Chloe can basically see her huff in defeat while she picks her basket up off of the ground, looking around self-consciously to see if anyone had paid her any mind to the incident. And that's when she spots them. At her ear, she can hear Stacie let out a soft giggle at being caught before ducking away, but Chloe stays. She expects Beca to start throwing a temper tantrum, but that's not quite the case. The girl sighs, and the word is being called out softly. "Chlo?"

She straightens up, as though that's her response to being beckoned. And Beca is still looking at her, helpless with a hint of humiliation. "Can you help me?"

* * *

The shindig starts around nine o'clock. The Bellas, however, had started around eight thirty with the prospect of pre-party shots, the ample energy radiating from the girls only holding out for that long. To say they were pretty psyched about this party would be an understatement. The Bellas have tried, in the past, but every party they threw was sad and outshone by those previously held by the Trebles. So if they could reach the bar; or, ideally, pass the bar held by the other acapella group's party standards- but Chloe wasn't holding out too much hope for that, being it the dawn of a new party era for them, it may take a few tries- Chloe would be satisfied.

"We are going to crush this _so_ hard, pitches," Amy declares, clinking yet another shot against Cynthia Rose's totally non-alcholic (for the moment) glass of orange juice. "Bottoms up!"

The Tasmanian's eyes tilt towards the ceiling as she throws her head back to down all of the liquid. Silently, Chloe joins in, taking a sip out of the cooler she'd cracked open after the first shot. She felt buzzed- but not yet from the liquor. From excitement. The jittery, warm pins and needles type feeling humming through her body was pleasant. This kind of anticipation she always enjoyed, although she most often associated it with before a Bellas performance or preluding an exciting, intimate event with someone new (or someone right) for the first time (or whatever time). But this was good too.

They'd spent the evening- after Beca dropped them off with her own groceries as well before zipping off to Jesse's- doing the final preparations. And Chloe was damn proud. She, Jessica, and Ashley had all carved one last quick pumpkin each before setting the whole lot of them up around the patio and front porch, placing a candle into each. Meanwhile, Cynthia Rose, Stacie, Lily, and Flo had finally pulled the box of decorations from the basement and gotten to work setting up what was appropriate around the house. They didn't use all the decorations yet, not wanting to be overkill- which was something Chloe didn't one hundred percent agree with because decorations are _awesome-_ but they did a tasteful job picking out what could stay and what they could bring out. Emily had showed up after her evening philosophy class, or something, and ecstatically helped in the last leg of decorating. And then, Cynthia Rose had changed all the lightbulbs in the living room and hallway into red bulbs, giving off a very spooky-chic and maybe borderline-sexy ambiance to the whole place. And then Chloe had gotten ready, barely finishing up before being commanded downstairs for shots.

She was glad to see she wasn't the only one dressed up. And no, throwing on a black tanktop and jeans, using a pair of old cat ears and painting on a black nose and whiskers wasn't the most elaborate costume she's ever done; but it's not even Halloween yet. This was a _starter_ costume. And no one else was really pulling out the stops, either, with their costumes. Stacie was sort of wearing what Chloe thinks is a bee costume, but somehow the girl makes it look like it's a proper- albeit barely there- dress to go clubbing in. Yellow and black stripes or not. Jessica and Ashley are in an adorable ' _Thing-One_ ' and ' _Thing-Two_ ' getup, and Amy is... well, maybe a rabbit. Maybe an angel. She isn't sure, but it works for her. Everyone else is just dressed a bit nicer than usual, with the occasional fun gadget thrown in; like Cynthia Rose's voodoo skull broach or Lily's cape. She's a bit bummed to see that Beca isn't here yet, but doesn't let that stop her from celebrating with the girls pre-party.

"How's the snack situation?" Chloe asks, just now noticing there wasn't a lot of food laid out. There was a great supply of liquor, sure, but she hadn't even been thinking about the food until now.

"We have some bags of chips?" Jessica supplies, with a kind of crooked smile that admits that maybe that hadn't been something she'd thought about either. And suddenly, it's a look being shared between all of the Bellas, searching one another's faces in hopes that someone had thought about it. They hadn't.

"Oh well," Amy sighs, pouring herself another shot. "I guess we'll just booze them up and hope they don't expect nachos."

Not very good hosts, if you ask Chloe. "Do we have any frozen pizzas?"

"Um." A crease forms between Jessica's brows as she thinks, "Let me check." And then she turns, side-stepping Amy towards the fridge and pulling the freezer box open. Stacie glides between them all, pulling open a drawer on the far-side of the room. "You guys get that figured out," She says, grabbing the BBQ lighter out and twirling it between her fingers. "I'll go light the pumpkins."

"Put on a jacket, please," Chloe reminds herself of her mother, with the sudden panic she feels thinking that the younger girl will be going outside wearing so little. It's not necessarily a bad thing. "It's cold."

Stacie smirks in return, stopping by the front door to paw through the various coats stacked upon the rack. "You know," She muses, locating her own and pulling it gently down. "A lot of the plastered people on the Titanic survived because the alcohol kept their blood warm."

She considers that interesting piece of trivia for a moment. "I don't think you're drunk enough for that yet."

"We have one!" Jessica announces, pulling herself from the freezer and holding a box above her head triumphantly. "But only one. We also have a box of frozen chicken wings too, though."

* * *

So, the Trebles show up around nine, soon followed by the other aca-people and, to Chloe's surprise, one of the frat houses about a half an hour later. She welcomes them, of course, but isn't sure how to feel considering they weren't _actually_ invited. As long as they don't break anything, she supposes, there was no real reason to be rude and ask them to leave. Despite all this, though, there were still two people missing. And one of those absentees created a missing piece of patchwork that Chloe couldn't ignore, the longer the evening went on. And, sure, it was only a half an hour, so she ought not to get herself worked up. It was at least some consolation to know she wasn't the only person who noticed, however, when Legacy stooped down to ask her where Beca was and then Cynthia Rose was questioning her if she'd heard from the girl.

She'd sent Beca a quick text- or _two-_ or _three_ \- but refrained from the fourth and then considered texting Jesse to ask what had happened. She didn't do that, though, because of the small and abstract, but no less real fear of coming off as too desperate or too clingy. So she'd waited. She drank her breezer, slipped her phone into her back pocket and mingled. Not entirely there. Beca's absence was slowly creating a worming hole somewhere in her brain, unable to ignore and persistent. She took shots with Stacie. Her buzz was becoming to be less from excitement, and more from the liquor burning her way through her bloodstream. The beats in the music eventually egging her on to dance enough that she could momentarily sweep the nuisance aside and lose herself on the dancefloor.

Beca shows up around ten.

At that point, Chloe knows she's tipsy. She's slowed down a little, too prevent things from going south too quickly, but she knows there's an intoxication to her movements and reactions- especially when she notices Beca's face among the crowd of people, and the grin that immediately puts itself on her face is so wide it could rip cheeks.

"Becs!" She gasps, using her elbow to cut her way through the sea of people in her living room and make her way over to the girl. A miracle, really, that she was somehow able to find her face hidden in the crowd. She was so little, after all. "You're here!"

Beca doesn't look particularly pleased to be here, which is expected, but it's a little bit more sour than usual. This registers to Chloe only very faintly. Her eyebrows just sort of twitch in acknowledgement and she's looking around the room. "Wow." It's dry. "You guys went all out."

The pride swells in Chloe's chest again. "Doesn't it look great?"

"I guess." It's not enthusiastic. Chloe feels herself frown, the girl's whole disposition finally clicking with her. There's a look in her eyes that's already exhausted, like she'd rather be anywhere but here. Which, she can usually understand; Beca isn't necessarily the most _social_ of creatures.

"Do you want a drink?" Is about the best she can do, because she still knows asking ' _are you okay?_ ' to Beca Mitchell wasn't usually a good way to approach an issue with the girl, especially in the middle of a party. In fact, when she's all broody like this, there isn't actually many good ways to start a conversation. Beca will just shut it down. A belated fact that Chloe remembers while Beca is opening her mouth to reply. She isn't going to give her the chance. "Let's get you a drink." Grabbing ahold of a smooth, slender wrist, Chloe begins weaving her way back through the people, towards the kitchen.

"Oh- um, Chlo- that's-" She can hear Beca sputtering behind her, trying to come up with some way to decline. Chloe pretends she doesn't hear it. Beca can decline when they get there, but, this was the smallest, kindest service she can do for the girl for now. Get her a drink. Let her know that she _wants_ Beca to have a good time, there with all of them.

The kitchen is home to more party-goers still, but it is most definitely less crowded than the living room. It's now that Chloe realizes how much easier breathing is in here, and she inhales sharply, contentedly, as she moves to the far side of the counter, Beca still in tow. Benji is there, sipping on a can of Ginger Ale- and, even after all these years of friendship between him and the Bellas and the Trebles, he's still stiff, appearing out of place among the people. Chloe opts to stop beside him, letting go of Beca's wrist and greeting him with a toothy grin. "Hey, Benji!"

To say he looks relieved that he's been approached was an understatement. "Hi, Chloe. Hi, Beca."

Beca sort of half grunts half nods in his direction, leaning against the counter and resting her head on her hands. She's definitely grumpy about something. Pursing her lips, she begins sifting through the various bottles and mixers against the counter, trying to think up a concoction for the other girl. But, she keeps her focus off of Beca for now, trying to give her space, and turns back to the boy. "How are you doing? How're the Trebles?"

"Oh, good." He grins sheepishly. Benji had never really been great at small talk, Chloe had found, but she didn't mind. It wasn't like it was uninteresting; he was sweet and maybe a little insecure, that's all. "We're working on some Maroon 5 songs, trying to make a decision."

Finding the bottle of sour liquor, Chloe squints at it for a moment before putting it back down, craning her neck to see what else there was for her to be working with. "That's nice," She muses, "I'm sure it'll sound great, whatever it is. Maroon 5 is a good pick."

Reaching out, she shoots Beca an apologetic grin when her armpit comes directly into her line of sight as she grabs the bottle of fireball, and then the bullet of Coke. She'd start her off with something easy to sip on, she decides, nothing too fancy. "Yeah," Benji agrees, and then Chloe is whirling around and grabbing an empty glass out of the designated cupboard, filling it almost halfway with the Coke before uncapping the Fireball. "So, Chloe, my cousin is putting together this Halloween fundraiser thing," It's a random pitch, one that causes Chloe to falter with the bottle of liquor in her hand and glance sideways at the boy, brow quirked in curiosity. "it's for the animal shelter. Would the Bellas want to go?"

He's nervous asking her, she can tell, by the way his eyes are darting around and his smile is both hopeful yet awkward. "I'm sure we would," Because what other answer could she give him? "But what is it?"

"Oh!" He squeezes his eyes together, probably chastising himself for not elaborating sooner. Slowly, Chloe tips the bottle of Fireball downwards, filling the cup almost another third of the way up with the liquid. "It's a haunted house."

Before she can catch herself, she gasps; a sudden burst of excitement going through her core. She'd just been telling Jessica about how they should find a haunted house this year. And here one was. Turning to face Beca, who was very unmoved by the whole situation, she beams. "Becs," She hisses, her body absolutely buzzing with the news. "Did you hear that? A haunted house!"

"What's wrong with the one we live in, Chlo?" She deadpans back, barreling right over the implied suggestion that they should maybe attend, judging by the tone in Chloe's voice.

Two can play at that game though, Chloe concludes, forcing the smile off of her face to give Beca her best attempt at a stern look. She's pretty sure she's not doing a great job, because she can still feel the wry curl of her lips as she slides the glass over to Beca, like any good bartender. Startled, the tiny girl catches it right before it collides with her elbow. "Okay, so it's like," She starts, determined to crash through any kind of protest Beca might have for it. "Still scary, but not _real_ _life_ scary- like our basement- so we can actually enjoy ourselves. And it's for charity!"

Beca shoots her a glower that could maybe unnerve some people. Not her, though. She's immune. "Um, no. Count me out."

"Becs," Leaning forward, she grabs the girl by the shoulders. "the _animals._ At the _shelter_. They _need_ us."

"Can't we just donate a bag of food?" Those ocean blues are rolling, exasperated, as Beca cranes her neck around to look around Chloe and at the boy behind her. "Benji?"

"Oh. Um," He looks uncomfortable being brought into a squabble, as light as it may be. Still holding Beca by her shoulders, Chloe turns her head to look at him as well, narrowing her eyes at the boy. She hopes he'll get the message to tell Beca ' _no_ ' because she doesn't want her to have the opportunity of an out, and doesn't take it as a sign of hostility. But he's gulping, his eyes flitting from one girl to the next. "Yeah, that's probably okay."

"There!" Beca is quipping, satisfied. Chloe groans, dragging her head back around to level the girl in front of her with a stare. "Problem solved. You can go with the others."

Removing one hand from Beca's shoulder, she instead brings it into a scolding finger to poke the girl in the girl's sternum pointedly. Beca was purely being stubborn- she may not like Halloween, not much, at least- but she can recall a conversation she once had with the girl involving her regrets about not being allowed into the haunted house at the carnival when she was fifteen because she looked _'too young_ '. And that tale is on the tip of her tongue, ready to be recited to the girl. "You-" But then she hears it.

The pumping bassline, the moment it hits the speakers. Her rebuttal is cut off when she does, eyes snapping to Beca for a moment with her mouth still agape, ready to argue. But this is her _jam_. She's drags her jaw shut- there's no way she can miss it. "We'll talk about this later." Just as the first lyrics are drifting through- she's _missing it_ \- she whirls around just as quickly and grabs the still-open bottle of Fireball with one hand, freeing Beca from her grip and bulleting through the crowd to make it to the living room. Upending the bottle and taking a shot, as she goes.

She makes it to the living room before even the first drop of the song, which she thinks is record time, but her complete disregard for the peers around her may have had something to do with that. She might have stepped on someone's foot.

As she breaks through the crowd on the other side of the kitchen, she immediately spots Stacie to the opposite side of the room. By the slightly crazed look in her eyes, something tells Chloe that the girl must have heard it from some other far-off corner of the house and had the same idea to come rushing in. And the taller brunette catches her eyes the moment she bursts through the horde, too, curling her lips into a mischievous grin and pointing at Chloe, as if to beckon her over. She happily obliges.

Bobbing her head to the soft beat as she approaches, mouthing along to the words.

 _Know it's been a while, now I'm mixing up a drink_  
 _I just need a girl who gon' really understand_  
 _I just need a girl who gon' really understand_

Stacie meets her in the middle, eyes inquisitively darting to the bottle still in Chloe's hand, and the redhead holds it up in a half shrug. And Stacie mimics the action, just as the first beat drops, the softness of the bass amplifying into a more suggestive, lower level- and Stacie is dropping with it. So suddenly, that Chloe can't help but giggle, but the music fills her up, runs through her feet and hums along in her veins, soaking up the energy in the room- and so she dances. Bottle in hand, she's following Stacie's lead with a wide grin, and letting the bassline carry her away.

 _Angelina, lips like Angelina_

Stacie sends her a wink, pointing the index fingers of both hands at her as the lyrics play, and Chloe raises her eyebrows at the girl. But she plays along with the next line, mirroring the action back to the other girl.

 _Like Selena, ass shaped like Selena_

Maybe it's a guilty pleasure song. But she's laughing along with Stacie's feigned response of being scandalized.

And then the chorus is blaring, she's lifting the bottle to her lips again, allowing the liquid to burn into her veins alongside the music, passing it to Stacie's outstretched hand afterwards. She hears hooting, can sense Amy joining them on the dancefloor, and Flo, and Jessica persuading Ashley to accompany her. Smiling so broad that it hurts her cheeks; she even catches a flash of Bumper making his way through the masses. Only a moment before her eyes find Beca again, leaning by the window with her drink in hand, observant.

 _I've seen him, outside tryna reach ya'_  
 _You're tryna leave him_  
 _You said I'm the reason_

And Beca seems to notice that Chloe's spotted her, because she's rolling her eyes again. Chloe smirks, inching towards the girl.

 _Tell me lies_  
 _Oh girl, tell me lies_  
 _Say you're mine_  
 _I'm yours for the night_

Then Beca is shaking her head, but there's maybe- just _maybe_ \- the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. A hand grips Chloe around the wrist however, in a very similar way as to how she had towed Beca earlier, and how she planned to pull her onto the dancefloor- spinning her around and bringing her back into the space. It's Stacie, ready and raring to go as the second chorus comes around. Her hips are swaying in time to the beat in a way that Chloe finds both impressive and oddly entrancing. The hand around her wrist moves- along with the other too, for that matter- and settles against Chloe's hips, flushing their bodies together. Blinking at the sheer boldness of the move, Chloe rests her hands in the same position, lifting one brow at the other girl in a silent question- before idly noting that the bottle of Fireball is now missing from either of their persons.

She follows Stacie's rhythm, though, without thought. As her body went one way, Chloe's followed, all the way through the chorus.

"I'm just getting Paul worked up," Stacie leans down to whisper in her ear as the softer bridge of the song returns. Her green eyes then flash to their right, indicating the boys presence, and Chloe follows them to see the familiar guy from the speakers pickup standing not far from Beca.

"Oh." It kind of comes out breathless, a crooked smile splaying across her face. Made sense. But her body is still buzzing with adrenaline and she can't tell if it's just from the song or if Paul isn't the only one getting a little bit worked up. Which was interesting to say the least. But she shouldn't really be shocked.

Stacie smirks, devilish in nature, and fueled by what Chloe was sure was tremendous amounts of alcohol. "I mean," She says slowly, "You can probably join if you want."

Leave it to Stacie to render her speechless. It may be a joke- or at least, she thinks it is, but if the sly grin was any indication, maybe it was only a half-joke and there was an offer before her that stood very seriously. Either way, there were synapses misfiring in her brain as it suddenly kicks up a few thousand RPM's trying to decipher how to respond. She then does a very good Beca impression; mouth opening and closing a few times while she chases some thoughts around in her mind. And her body, on autopilot, flusteredly squeezes her hands a bit tighter against Stacie's waist before she realizes what she's doing, and Stacie is raising her eyebrows in a very analytical way- and _goodness,_ everything was happening too fast for her drunk mind to comprehend and the last chorus of the song couldn't come fast enough.

"Chloe Beale!" Stacie gasps sharply- but quietly- eyes gleaming like she had just caught the canary of her dreams. "You _dog!_ "

Aghast that she may be coming across unintentionally with mixed signals, Chloe shakes her head frantically. "I-"

But that last drop of the bassline arrived- saving her at exactly the wrong time- and the brunette is giving her yet another playful wink before gripping her hands against Chloe tighter, arching her hips upwards in a horribly deliberate way that sent her mind reeling. So boggled with the entire position she had so abruptly found herself in, her body could hardly even appropriately respond to the music or the provocation. Caught somewhere between rationally wanting to pull away because getting down and dirty with Stacie in the middle of the D-Floor wasn't exactly appropriate (not that she didn't enjoy bumpin' and grindin', even platonically. But this was different), but instinct urging her to move forward, following the lead that had been set for her. So much that the song kind of sounded like she was hearing it through cotton earmuffs, hastily trying to figure out her best course of action as Stacie continued to practically gyrate against her, but then it was too late. The last words are coming through the speakers and switching to some upbeat pop song that Chloe currently can't place.

Stacie pulls back, the seductive intone of her smirk gone and replaced with an incredibly fond one, but she's leaning in again. "You're off the hook," Breath ghosting Chloe's ear, the girl pulls back again, before bringing a hand up to gently pat her against the cheek- which kind of works to bring her back into her own body. "Always a pleasure, Ginge!"

And she's flouncing off, as if the proposition for a menage a trois never happened. Her mind is still steps behind her body, however- because there is definitely some exhilerated part of her that was almost a little bit turned on. Almost. That's what these next few moments are for, blinking in the middle of the dancefloor as she finally catches up with the situation, and she's shaking her head to clear the fuzz.

Must be the liquor.

It had definitely been a wild four minutes. She needs another drink.

* * *

She finds Beca again almost a whole other breezer later- which wasn't a great indicator of time, but, it's been long enough for her to calm the surge of hormones that dancing with Stacie had provided her with. Who, conspicuously, hasn't been seen since. When she locates the shorter brunette again, however, she's moved from Chloe's drink to a beer. Observing the dancefloor from her position glued against a wall, as stoic as ever.

It's so adamantly Beca that it's charming.

But even through the slow-swimming, inebriated brain, Chloe can still sense that something was definitely up with her. She may not be a party-girl, but this level of sullen attitude was usually dropped for such events.

Inhaling deeply, Chloe weaves her way through the crowd, making her way to Beca's side with relative ease. And, as usual, Beca sees her by the time she's halfway there.

"Hey." She greets coolly as Chloe approaches. Not wanting to overwhelm her, she simply taps the glass of her breezer against Beca's can, as if that was proper protocol for meeting.

"What's up?" Chloe asks, settling beside the girl and resting against the wall.

With her free hand, Beca brushes her knuckle against the bridge of her nose, before waving it around the room. "Oh, you know. People watching."

She hums knowingly. "Anything interesting?" And then tips the breezer back against her lips.

Beca looks at her from the corner of her eye, lips teasing with a smile- the red of the changed living room lights silhouetting her in an almost ethereal glow. "Not particularly, no. The bar for interesting was set pretty high pretty early on, so."

And Chloe is too caught off guard by the way the light almost makes her look like a stranger, as if she was seeing her for the first time, to notice the playful glint in her eye. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Beca shifts now, facing Chloe straight-on, the red now only lighting her from behind and hiding the rest of her in shadows. "That was bananas, Beale."

She snorts. "Bananas?"

"Yeah, _bananas_. You know, like, crazy,"

"Yeah, I know what ' _bananas_ ' means, Beca, I- wait, what?" A deep crease forms between her brows as she stares at the girl, putting two and two together that Beca had just referred to something being _crazy_ , and then tied her last name onto the sentence. It's not a long line to follow, though, and she finds what Beca means pretty quickly. "Oh, I, right, _that_. Yeah- Stacie was trying to work Paul up, if you know what I mean."

Beca raises her eyebrows before grimacing, inclining to tip her beer can against her lips instead of responding to that. Eyes darting away from Chloe, she can tell, even in the dark, that she was trying to find something else to focus on instead of the possible mental image that could have occurred to her. Chloe smirks.

"Do you think it worked?" Lowering her voice just enough for it to be suggestive, Chloe watches as Beca's eyes bulge slightly and she nearly chokes on her drink.

"What? Dude, I- I don't," She shakes her head, screwing her eyes shut as she did so. "My god, you're such a perve! Seriously, why do you want to think about that?"

Chloe shrugs, that wasn't really the part of the equation she was interested in. "Well, I mean, I just want to make sure I did my part." Blinking, Chloe beams at the girl before her, about eighty percent sure she was close to getting Beca to blush if she wasn't already.

" _What?_ " It's breathless, palpable with disbelief that she was even engaging in this conversation. Chloe just raises her brows, patiently tipping her own beverage back and finishing the last sip. Beca's still looking like she was trying to figure out how to seriously respond, and it's adorable. "I- I don't think that's a problem, Chlo. It's Stacie. She could probably be changing a diaper and still give dude's boners."

She notes that it's a wonderful way to beat around the bush. She pouts, and she can immediately see the way Beca reacts by pulling her bottom lip into her mouth uncertainly. "Are you saying that my part in that performance was totally not needed?"

And she's about ninety percent sure that Beca is definitely blushing now. "I," She starts, before sighing heavily, "no, probably not."

And Beca had a point about the diaper thing; Stacie probably could have gotten Paul worked up by simply asking him to grab her a drink, so she can't even be mad about Beca's response. She knew better. She also knew that this was Beca probably playing her safe ground, not wanting to wade into potentially dangerous waters.

"Yeah," She concedes, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, "You're probably right."

Teeth peek out from between lips as Beca grins, consoling her half-heartedly. " _There, there._ "

"Better luck next time, I guess." Chloe sighs, searching for a spot in their general vicinity for her to set down the empty bottle. There's no where, really, and she doesn't want to set it against the ground, knowing full well that she'll end up cleaning broken glass from the hardwood.

"Here," Beca offers, obviously noticing her struggle, offering her hand out to her. "I got it."

Brightening, Chloe passes the bottle to her and utters a polite ' _thank you_ ' as Beca shuffles a few steps over to set it against the end table that had been pushed against the wall to make room for the dancefloor. She then inches back over to her spot, glancing at Chloe as she did so, before wrinkling her nose. "You know, your whiskers are smudging on one side."

She'd forgotten about them, in all honesty. "Can you fix it please?" She whines, as she brings her hand up to her face only to realize she can't see what it is she's doing. Or what side Beca was referring to.

The brunette groans, "Like how?"

"What do you mean, _'like how'_?" Furrowing her brow, Chloe makes some kind of vague hand gesture back up to her face. "Just like, wipe the smudge. Try to salvage it for me."

Beca exhales testily through her nose, her jaw clenching for a moment before she's thrusting her can into one of Chloe's hands with a demand to hold it, and the redhead happily accommodates her.

"I don't know why you can't just go to the bathroom and fix it yourself," Beca grumbles, one hand coming up to grab Chloe's chin and the other using her thumb to wipe at the face paint on her right cheek.

"Because do you have any idea how long the bathroom lineup probably is?" She argues back, and Beca spares her a moment to send her another insincere annoyed scowl before continuing her work to correct the smudged area. A frown appears on her face, however, as she presses harder, with more effort. "Hey, Becs?" She doesn't really mind.

Beca grunts in response.

"Wanna dance when you're done?"

Sighing yet again, the girl pulls away. "I'm going to assume you won't take no for an answer, so I guess."

* * *

Chloe's first real love might have been music. And it hasn't steered her wrong yet. It may have given her all the same feelings- and sometimes more- than anyone else she thinks she might have loved at one point, but it hadn't managed to emotionally harm her for good yet. There had been times it made her cry. There had been times where it had filled her with so much joy she felt like bursting, and there had been times where it overpowered her with such an intense sensation of nostalgia she could do nothing more than sit back and take it all in with awe. It'd always been that way. Her parents were more than partially responsible for that; they were also huge fans of music- maybe not so much the new stuff, they were pretty loyal to the bands of their youth, but still. (They'd even met at a concert of _The Clash_ in 1979, which Chloe thought was pretty romantic.)

She'd been raised around music. Classic rock, mostly. But her parents said she was trying to sing along to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star before she could talk, and she'd always had a knack for dancing. She came second place in her preschool level dance competition, which her mom still thought was pretty impressive, and she still occasionally gloated about it at times. And- don't even get her started on the impact _The Spice Girls_ had on her between the ages of five to nine. Ginger Spice was her favourite, obviously, and somewhere in the family photo albums there were images of her pulling a solo Spice Girls outfit for Halloween. Which, actually, considering she had a plethora of girls to choose from now- Chloe should seriously consider a group costume and revive Spice World.

Either way. Music spoke to her on something that could almost be called a primal level. She didn't have to think about it. She could feel it, completely. Doesn't matter the genre- she was pretty much good with everything; even heavy metal she found had it's own kind of appeal. Sure, you can't really dance to it, but some of it has meaning and that is one of the most important things to her, anyway. So she dances to some Britney Spears oldie, pulling Beca onto the dancefloor with her, and letting the beat tell her what to do. Where to go and when, how to move, she simply lets it guide her.

Beca can dance. She may passionately argue that she can't, but she can. She's maybe no show-winner, but she has an instinct to finding a beat, and she can move along to it. And, if she's dancing without a routine to follow, Chloe can notice the slightly preoccupied look on her face; the kind that tells her Beca is subconsciously trying to think of another song that could mix into the bassline. At first, Chloe had just thought it was cute; thinking that Beca was carefully calculating every step and move, focusing entirely on the way she danced. But then, Beca had breathlessly remarked after that she had a good idea for a mix; and then revealed it to Chloe a few days later. With none other than the song they had been dancing to, but now tweaked to involve Ariana Grande too. Since then, Chloe couldn't not notice it. And not only was it cute anymore; it was pretty damn impressive, if you ask her. Because her mind and body were working to two different tracks, all the while keeping time to the beat and not missing a step. Even if, occasionally, she looked a little stiff doing so. That didn't matter. She was _working_.

"Will I hear a mix of that in the future?" Coyly, she slips one arm over Beca's shoulders, as Britney melts away and into some other tune.

"Maybe." Beca returns, conspiratorially shrugging, a gleam present in eyes that are a few shades darker than her own. Before shrugging a second time, dipping her head to the side a little, "Probably not, though. Nothing too brilliant came up."

"I'm sure whatever you come up with is brilliant." She doesn't miss a beat, flashing Beca a winning smile.

Beca's eyes hold her own for a moment, as though she was silently fighting the urge to be argumentative about that. Wisely, she chooses not. "I'm going to get another one of these." Holding up her beer can, Beca wiggles her way out from under Chloe's arm, slipping back into the crowd and towards the kitchen. Chloe just smiles. At least Beca was loosening up a bit.

* * *

The party comes to an end somewhere around two in the morning. Despite the turnout, it actually hadn't been the wildest party she's been to. Nothing was broken- she was pretty sure- no testosterone fueled guys had gotten into a gorilla fistfight, and no one had ended up doing body shots off of each other. She was actually pretty sure none of the Bellas had gone too overboard on the booze, which was a nice change, and eventually the people had just began to filter out. Sure, Chloe couldn't find Amy or Stacie, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. And Ashley had sleepily crawled to bed around twelve thirty, Lily was sprawled across the top part of the couch like a housecat, and there was some guy she didn't know passed out on the lower part of it. Her motherly nature had kicked in and grabbed the guy a blanket from the cabinet, happily throwing it over his body and tucking him in accordingly, before she began wandering the halls again, checking on the status of the others. She was definitely still drunk, by the fuzziness at the edge of her vision and the warm cotton-feeling in her brain.

"Yo, Chloe," She hears her name called in a hush, and she spins, facing Cynthia Rose who was carrying about half a dozen empty bottles in her hands. "Who's that dude on the couch?"

Chloe simply shrugs, noting the bottles and then stooping to pick up a very impolitely discarded beer can on their carpet. Following the other girl's lead, Chloe's new course of action is to pick up every can or bottle she comes across, relocating them into the big blue garbage bag Cynthia Rose had set up in the far corner of the kitchen. "Have you seen Amy?" Because she's _pretty sure_ she knows where Stacie is.

The younger Bella tilts her head towards her chest, furrowing her brow in concentration. "No. I last saw her in the backyard."

Chloe nods, dropping one more can into the bag before heading towards the back patio. There's nothing really amiss outside; other than a ridiculous amount of bottles and cans, which Chloe has no inclination to pick up at the moment. Closing the door once again, she mentally counts the Bellas and their whereabouts in her mind, before searching for the other four unaccounted for.

Upstairs, she finds Flo and Jessica washing their faces and brushing their teeth lopsidedly in the mirror, giving her boozy grins as she popped her head into the room. One that Chloe returned, of course, before continuing her journey.

Her footing stalls for a moment as she crosses the stairs leading to Beca and Amy's attic/bedroom, before gravity pulls her upwards. Keeping a hand on the railing, Chloe considers announcing herself for a moment, but decides against it if there was anyone sleeping above. When she reaches the top step, she sees that Amy's bed is still empty, but there's a mass burrowed under the blankets on Beca's side. And she can't help but feel herself grin, just a little. And she can see Beca must have been anticipating a hangover, because she'd had the foresight to leave herself a glass of water on her bedside table. Which was a little uncharacteristically Beca- because she hadn't even been that drunk. Chloe had managed to get her to dance for about half an hour intervals at a time between ten thirty and twelve thirty, but she had lost her somewhere around one o'clock.

Supposedly, she and Ashley just had the same idea about retiring early.

Tutting good-naturedly, Chloe finds herself moving towards the bed, because there is one thing Beca hadn't bothered to do, for some reason. And that was removing her shoes.

Sitting down against the foot of her bed, Chloe takes one foot in her hand, deftly undoing the laces and trying, as gently as she could, to pry it from her foot.

"Mom?"

Freezing, Chloe blinks. The girl under the blankets lifts her head, and blinks back; squinting, blurry-eyed. She feels a crease form between her brows as she looks at the girl, and then down at the foot in her hand. She should have noticed that it was too big to be Beca's.

"Nope." She finally regains usage of words, the momentary shock subsiding as she sort of pats the girl's calf. "Just me. You're the only Junk here." And then she tugs the shoe one last time, to give herself something to do, and it comes off of her foot. Placing it against the floor, she shoots the brunette a grin.

After a moment of confused staring, Emily's smile sleepily breaks across her face and she chuckles to herself. "Okay." Before burrowing her head back into the pillows.

Chloe makes hasty work of the other shoe, and then exits the room again and ends up on the second floor just in time to see Cynthia Rose slipping into her bedroom. That left one person to find. Uncertainly, her hand finds it's way to her back pockets, searching for her phone before belatedly remembering she'd tucked it under her pillow sometime during the night. Shrugging to herself, Chloe heads back down to the bottom floor, where Lily had now stretched out over the armchair, legs in the air, and the guy had started snoring. She checks every room she passes- with the exception of Stacie's closed door. The kitchen; _empty_. The exercise room; _empty._ Both of the downstairs bathrooms; _empty._ The dusty, mostly unused study room at the back of the house; _empty._ And, no she wasn't bothering to check the basement.

Confusion settling deep within her, Chloe resigns to her bedroom; she could send Beca a quick text, but there was always the chance that she'd gone to Jesse's who- had been curiously absent from the whole event. Maybe he was sick.

Pushing open her bedroom door, Chloe carefully shuts it behind her, sighing contentedly as she navigates her way through the darkness to turn on the lamp that rested on her dresser beside the bed. Her room had been a little cramped- _okay,_ it was a bit of a shoebox, but she'd graciously taken the smallest bedroom of the house because she figured the walk-in closet was worth it. _And_ it had been the room she was stuck with since the first time she had been allowed to move into the Bella house, so it had kind of grew on her; even if it had originally been given to her as a form of punishment by Alice.

Flicking the light on, Chloe promptly lets out a small yelp of surprise as she finds a body sprawled across her bed face-down. Her heart- which she can now hear in her ears- quickly settles down though as she realizes it's Beca, who's craning her neck around to look at Chloe over her shoulder. "Sorry." She mumbles, half-muffled by the bed sheets.

"What-" She gasps, one hand fluttering up to her chest in attempt to calm her stuttering heart. "What're you doing? Laying in the dark?"

"Sorry." Beca repeats, flipping onto her back with a small groan of protest, "I had to put Legacy to bed. I thought about just sleeping in Amy's bed," She sits up then, rubbing her temple with her palm and then giving Chloe a somewhat imploring look as she sighs. "But then I realized I've never actually seen Amy clean her sheets."

Scrunching her nose up, Chloe nods. Her heartbeat is finally back to normal, so she removes her cat ears and tosses them against the dresser, before heading towards her closet. "So I thought I'd come here." The girl finishes lamely, "Just for some quiet."

And there are about a dozen witty comments in Chloe's head about _why_ Beca was assuming _her_ bedroom would be so quiet, jumping up and down and begging for her to pick one, but she shoves them aside. "Why do you assume I'm any better at cleaning my sheets?" She throws Beca a playful look over her shoulder, one that blatantly tells the girl she's only joking.

" _Right_ ," Beca drawls, "I know you clean your sheets every Tuesday, Chlo. It's a little extreme, actually."

"Nothing wrong with being organized." She muses, stooping down to her pyjama drawer and heaving it open, pulling out the first shirt she saw and a pair of shorts.

"I've come to appreciate it," The girl scoots forward on the bed, so that her legs are dangling off of the side and her feet are on the floor, mouth curved into a small, wry smile. "Even if it is, like, almost OCD."

"That's sweet." She goes right over the derogatory portion of the sentence, tossing the clothing beside Beca on the bed and gathering her hair atop of her head and wrapping it into a bun with less precision than she usually would.

"Yeah." Is all Beca says, glancing sidelong at her before pushing herself off of the mattress. "Anyway, goodnight."

There's a heaviness to the words. One that strikes Chloe even through her booze-goggles; ebbing away as the feeling might be as she sobered up, she knew she was still a little tipsy. The crooked bun she can see in the mirror on the open-door of her closet was a clear indication. "What?" She blinks at the brunette, "Where are you going?"

Beca's eyebrows knit together, as if she wasn't sure what Chloe was doing.

"I thought you didn't want to sleep in Amy's bed," Chloe elaborates, bringing one hand up to scratch the underside of her chin.

"I don't." Beca mimes her action, before shaking her head and gesturing towards the door. "I'll just like, sleep on the couch."

"Occupied." Turning towards the discarded clothes on the bed, Chloe scoops the items up in her hands and holds them against her chest.

"What?" Beca scoffs, "By who?"

And then Chloe is shrugging again. "Dunno. Some guy."

" _Some guy_?" Beca repeats, her voice raising slightly, "What?"

"Some passed out guy," She explains, before waving away any indication of Beca's confusion. "It's fine, I tucked him in."

"You-?" Beca starts, and then catches herself, exhaling deeply with resign. "Never mind. Of course you did."

Rolling her eyes, Chloe takes a few steps forwards, closing the space between them. "Just like, stay here." She offers, smiling at the way Beca is fluttering her eyelashes like some stranger on the street had just offered her a new Cadillac. "It's fine. I don't care," She practically drops her clothes into Beca's hands, before turning back to the dresser, pulling it open again to grab another change of clothes for herself.

"Chlo," The girl starts, "It's- like, really, it's- you don't have to,"

"Beca." She turns, the (almost) full usage of her name causing the girl to close her mouth around her protest with an audible clack of teeth. "It's not a big deal. You aren't sleeping in Amy's disgusting bed or on the floor."

There's an audible exhale of air pushed through Beca's cheeks that sounds a bit like the trumpeting noise Amy sometimes makes if she falls asleep on her back- which, Chloe has heard a lot of complaints about through the years- before the shorter girl is tucking a lock of hair behind her ears and shaking her head. "Fine." She says, not sounding entirely pleased, but she grips the clothing in her hands and carefully slips out of the door to go change. There's a small notion in her mind that Beca might use that as her out to escape, but Chloe's pretty confident that the girl will maybe tour the house, see for herself, and walk up to her own room and stare at Amy's empty bed before resigning to the idea that having a sleepover with the resident redhead was the best course of action.

She too sheds her cat costume clothing in favour of an oversized T-shirt that was easily three times too big for her, embroidered with a big red tree and slogan on the back that said ' _Plants for Peace!_ ' that she'd got during her first junior year for some charity event. The thing nearly draped down to her knees and hid any indication that she was, in fact, wearing shorts. Afterwards, she made her way to the nearest bathroom to wash the remainder of the makeup from her face.

She narrows her eyes at the reflection; seeing the way her whiskers were still smudged on one side- even after she'd gotten Beca to fix them earlier and she'd made a bathroom break where she had to do more touch ups. But she scrubs vehemently at the paint, before using a makeup wipe to remove the remainder of residue from her eyelids and face, proceeding with her nightly ritual of cleansing, toning, moisturizing, and teeth brushing. Personal hygiene was something Chloe liked to keep a very firm hold on.

By the time she returns to her bedroom, she finds Beca curled into the far side of the bed, awkwardly shifting as Chloe enters to look over her shoulder at the other girl. "Do you want this side?" She asks, referring to the side of the bed she's on unsurely.

Leave it to Beca to still feel like she's intruding after being invited in. One would think she was some old-fashioned vampire, and that staying the night in someone's bedroom without getting strict permission would cause her to start melting from the inside, or something. But Chloe grins appreciatively at the girl as she slips into the other side, tucking her feet under the blankets and responding with a firm ' _nope, I'm great over here, Becs_ '. And then she's leaning over to her dresser to flick the lamp off, engulfing the room in blackness.

And with that, Beca just sort of grunts before turning on her side again, back to Chloe and releasing a heavy breath. There's still a wave of agitation coming from her, and Chloe can sense it. Feel it pricking at her skin and forming a small, but nagging amount of worry somewhere in the forefront of her brain. Comforting Beca, though, is a tricky feat. The girl is prickly. Like a kitten kind of prickly; tiny, and very cute, but they still have claws and teeth and can give the hand that's trying to pat them a nasty mauling, before they run away and hide under the vanity. Which makes coaxing them out a whole new issue in itself.

"Becs?" The sound is leaving her before she can stop herself, barely a whisper cutting through the darkness. And she chastises her inebriated self for not having the restraint to leave well enough alone. But it's out now, and she can't pull the word back into her mouth, so she goes with the lead she's already started; reaching out to rest one gentle hand against the girl's shoulder.

There's another grunt in response, this one more purposeful and the sound piques a bit at the end, indicating the silent '?' that accompanied it.

Pulling a deep breath in through her nose, Chloe squeezes the hand around the shoulder, hopefully coming across reassuring instead of persistent as she hedges. "Are you alright?"

Beca's body stiffens under her hand, a predictable but no less unsettling reaction. "Yeah." It's burdened, and the girl doesn't so much as turn her head. "Fine."

She wants to press. But good sense tells her not to, and so she gives another quick squeeze, pulling her arm back into herself and away from the other girl, vacating her personal bubble as much as she could in the limited space they had under the covers. "Okay."

Chloe allows her eyes to flutter shut then. The moments spacing out where the only sound is her own breathing and heartbeat in her chest, the small bundle of worries for the other girl still alive and vibrating in her mind, but she suppresses it in slow counts to ten. She'd learned to let Beca open up in her own time, even if it sometimes took prodding. But that didn't make her any less inclined to become perturbed by the offset behaviour when it occurs.

"When my dad left,"

It's four words that startle her back into opening her eyes; staring at Beca's back. The girl hadn't moved, not an inch, and she could see the tension wound up in her shoulders even in the dark, as her voice weakly made it's way through the shadows, finding Chloe's ears through a veil of detached apathy that held an undertone of hurt. And it's those four words that give her the instinct to reach out, hold Beca somewhere, somehow, but Chloe's hands freeze against the sheets, fearing that any movement could discourage Beca from continuing.

"I woke up that morning, and I went down the hallway to the kitchen. Get breakfast, you know, like any other day. And... It was quiet, but not like, _too_ quiet. Like it wasn't like it was quieter than usual."

Chloe can feel herself nodding, even though Beca isn't looking at her, can't see her, but maybe she can hear the rustling the motion makes against the pillows and knows.

"So I didn't think anything of it, really." And maybe it's the lack of flustered stuttering that is troubling her the most, the confident recollection of the whole event that Beca never spoke of. And Chloe can't help but wonder why this was haunting Beca now? "I went to school not knowing- I didn't see mom either, I just thought they were sleeping in, or something. I didn't bother checking on them, never did if I didn't see them, you know? I just, like, did my thing. Got ready. Went to school. Came home. Went into my room. It was still pretty quiet. Like there wasn't anything amiss." Her voice lifts in a dry humour at that, mocking her younger self. "But then, uh, it was past dinnertime, and no one had come to get me, so I thought that was a bit weird. Because, even if I had my headphones on- like I usually did- if I missed them calling me someone would eventually be tapping me on the shoulder and scaring the _shit_ out of me, but... nothing. So, I came out of my hole, went back the kitchen, saw there wasn't like, any sign of life since I had gotten home."

Chloe speculates how often Beca relives the day, because the recital of it didn't seem to miss a thing.

"Then I finally went looking. I went to the living room, and noticed a few small things missing. Like, a picture here, a book there, you know. And I think that's when... the idea came to me, but I leapt right over it- like, _totally_ denied it, it seemed absurd. Then I went to my parents bedroom. The door was closed- I don't know why I didn't knock, probably because part of me was starting to freak out- so I just barged right in. And... there were _a lot_ of things missing." Beca sighs, her diaphragm raising and then deflating dramatically on her side. "And I saw my mom on the bed, she was just sitting there- she didn't start crying until I came in, and it was... whatever. What really got me was that they hadn't even been fighting the night before or anything. Not even recently, I don't think. And he just- he _left?_ Like, what? It was also like, um, how easy it was for me to not notice?"

There's an uncertainty lacing her words now, the story moulding into some kind of pondering.

"And mom like, she kept so many things the same. It was... strange. And, not to sound emo, but I started to think like; _oh my god, what if I died?_ Don't ask me why I thought that," She adds quickly, shifting for the first time to almost look over her shoulder at Chloe. "But I started thinking about that, and then, like- what if I woke up _after_ I died? Like, what if I walked back home and it was like nothing happened? What if they left my room the way I left it, but just like, scrubbed all the stains out of the carpet and did all my laundry and it was folded all neat for me on the foot of my bed, no more- no more mud in my pockets or there was like, a- a Gatorade stain by my desk. What if it was just like- spotless- but the same way I left it? But after that- it was evacuated, and things got all dusty, so long that eventually, it's just a guest room. How _weird_ , right? Like, a place for non-permanent people to exist in a home that was created to raise a kid."

Chloe feels like she's been thrown thirty thousand feet from an airplane, because she's not sure what Beca is getting at, but the words were spewing from her in strands of word vomit that are being delivered with urgency. Like there's a freight train behind them pushing them forwards. But it was a vulnerability that Chloe had never ever seen the girl come clean about, rather only fervidly decline any notion about sharing her ' _personal sob-story_ '. And it was sweet, but no less baffling. Somewhere during the rant, however, she regains usage of her limbs and moves forward, one hand resting against Beca's upper arm. She knew Beca was likely to be immediately mortified once her mind clears from her emotional upheaval, so maybe it was merciful to stop Beca there, despite the fact that Chloe _strongly_ believes that talking about these feelings is totally healthy.

"That's heavy, Becs." She agrees, softly, but with an air of playfulness that can keep the situation light- for Beca's sake. Fingers curling into skin, Chloe pulls against the arm she's caught hold of, turning Beca over to face her. There's an apprehensiveness to the other girl's movements, and Chloe pulls a small, encouraging smile in response. "Why's this on your mind though?"

"I..." Beca's brow furrows, eyes dropping against the mattress as she begins to pick at a loose thread on the comforter, "don't know." She admits, meeting Chloe's gaze for about half a second before dropping back down and away. "I'm probably- it's probably just like, stress."

"Oh." Chloe breathes- the dismissiveness to the explanation told her that Beca was maybe avoiding the whole truth. But she didn't mind; because obviously it was bothering her enough to speak up about it- which was a big deal in Beca's case- but she'd gotten it off of her chest and Chloe could feel the girl relax. There was no further need to prompt her tonight, if she wasn't willing or ready to say it all at once. "Thank you for telling me."

It was intimate. It was Beca maybe battering down just about every layer of her walls, and Chloe could find peace in the fact that she was comfortable enough to share it with her.

Beca inhales sharply, the hand picking at the thread going through something of a spastic motion before the girl lays her palm flat against the bed, forcing herself to be still. "Yeah." She grumbles, an air of remorse about it, as she throws Chloe a sidelong glance. "Don't you tell anyone about this- this, _pathos_ , though, Beale." She demands, probing Chloe in the abdomen with her index finger, "I have an image to keep up."

Chloe finds herself grinning, reaching down to remove the offending appendage from her sternum and wrapping Beca's hand up in her own, holding it between the two of them on the mattress. This was Beca, playing with humour in attempts to handle emotional situations- it was textbook. "I'm like a safe, Beca." Chloe rolls her eyes for good measure, to emphasize the ' _duh'_ factor of her statement. "Which one of us was the one that told the other Bellas about our shower, hmm?"

Beca's mouth pops open indignantly. " _Dude_! That was- it wasn't- that wasn't like it was _my_ fault."

"No?" Chloe's eyebrows reach for her hairline. She knew the story. And she agreed- it totally wasn't like it was Beca's fault, it was the fault of the _game_ , and Beca was just playing fair.

"I can't-" Beca starts, aggravation clear in her tone, because they'd had this argument before. Chloe still thought it was funny. _Every_ time. " _Never Have I Ever_ is already a risky enough game, Chlo. If Amy caught me lying, she'd wrestle me like a, like a _dingo_."

"You still didn't have to drink." Chloe responds, without missing a beat.

"The question was," Beca recites, her eyes heading skyward as she argues. " _Never Have I Ever been in the shower with another person_." Her brows then quirk expectantly at Chloe, emphasizing her point. "You were in _my_ cubicle. That technically means you were in the same shower as me."

"Oh," Scoffing, she rolls her eyes again, "Beca, please, I think we both know what the innuendo in that question was."

Some incensed vowel noise comes out of Beca's mouth again as she flails for a response. Chloe is pretty sure, that if she had thermal vision, she would be able to see the flaming red in the other girl's cheeks. She just shrugs, and barrels on before Beca can think of some other assertion to defend her act. " _I_ wasn't drinking because I barged into your cubicle."

"Oh my God," She groans, shooting Chloe another rather impressive rendition of the stink eye.

"Well," Chloe sighs, "At least you managed to hold your tongue about it until junior year. So I guess we made it pretty far before there were any slip-ups."

Beca is still bristling, but she hasn't moved her hand from where Chloe kept it. She can't help but think she'd always been a cat person, anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

**Happy (almost) Valentine's Day!  
**

* * *

Not to be dramatic or anything, but Beca kind of feels like her life hasn't been slipping out from under her feet this much since she was seventeen. Which is alarming for her, to say the least. She feels like a cat who has been dropped into a bathtub full of water and was scrambling to get out, get a hold on _something_ , but the result is just her skittering around without traction.

There's the internship, of course. It's stressful and it's eating her alive and she just can't work up the courage to do anything about it. She enjoys it, _kind of_ \- can deal with it, knows it's a necessity to get her foot in the door, so that's worth it, _kind of._

And there's Bellas. She hates to even think about it as a burden- given that it has benefited her so many times. But the weight of sets and choreo was starting to make her head want to explode.

And there's Jesse. She doesn't know what to do about that- and that's the only thought she's giving to the whole situation, thank you very much.

Her dad. The time of the year. And upcoming and very depressing anniversary. Passing mood killers- when the new year rolls around, she'll tell herself some kind of BS resolution about bettering herself for this time of the year that will last about a month. Until she forgets. And then it's October again and she's as bitter as ever. So whatever.

She relents when Stacie and Chloe corner her in the kitchen. This Halloween party wasn't something she's looking forward to; and, even though Stacie is the owner of one of the other two cars parked in Bella-house vicinity, they convince her.

"You'd have to move your car, anyway, so that I could get out the driveway," The girl sighs, nonchalantly inspecting her manicure while beside her, Chloe was basically vibrating with some kind of positive energy. Nothing unusual.

So, Beca piles the girls into her car. She and Chloe argue about the pronunciation of ' _caramel'_ \- which is ridiculous, but when Stacie voices her opinion- her _right_ opinion that matches with her own- she's gloating and the topic is dropped. Even if later on, Chloe has to retrieve a carton of Redbull for her- her extra two inches of height allowing her easier access to the top shelf. And Beca is muttering the whole way to the cashier, the smug pair of women not far behind her.

"We'll see you later, Becs!" Chloe calls, after Beca tells the two that she's heading to Jesse's for a while before the party starts. She'd promised the guy that she'd stop in to see him. Chloe nudges the passenger door shut with her foot, balancing the alcohol in her arms as she practically skips to the front door.

* * *

"Hey," Poking her head into Jesse's dorm room, Beca scans it to find him sitting on his bed, back to the wall and laptop against his thighs, a bowl of popcorn that's been reduced to nothing more than the kernels next to him. Typical. His face breaks into a small grin as he sees her, however, reaching forward to pause whatever movie he was rewatching today and lower the lid of the computer.

"Hey yourself." Beca takes a tentative seat on the other side of the popcorn bowl as he happily relocates the computer against the bedsheets. "I thought you were stopping by after your class?"

Sighing, Beca rubs the tip of her nose with her knuckle, shaking her head in dissent. "No- well, I was going to," She explains, eyeing the empty popcorn bowl as it wobbles against the mattress. "But Stacie and Chloe talked me into driving them to buy booze first."

There was also a lower, negating voice telling her that she just didn't really _want_ to come. Even now, with that bowl, greasy from being over-buttered and precariously threatening to spill it's kernels over Jesse's bedspread. He makes a small noise of understanding, somewhere from within his throat, and Beca points to the bowl. "Was this your dinner?"

He grins sheepishly. At least they no longer even bothered trying to lie to each other; even about the trivial things. "Yeah. But, to be fair," He adds quickly, sitting up and raising a finger to stop any onslaught of Beca's comments about that. "It wasn't really by _choice_. I need to go grocery shopping. This was the closest thing to a meal I had."

Something about that made Beca beg to differ; she could probably open up the few cupboards in the kitchenette and at least find some canned chili or something, but she holds her tongue. The guy would go to the ends of the earth to defend his popcorn addiction. "How are you not malnourished?" She blinks at him seriously, swiping her eyes over his frame. His grin widens.

"I eat my wheaties." He explains, one hand gripping the popcorn bowl and he bends at the middle, placing it onto the floor. Beca just hums at that, "I've never seen you eat wheaties in our four years of knowing each other, so."

Jesse snorts, leaning farther into the wall to face Beca. "So, are you excited for the Bellas party tonight?"

"No." She mirrors his position, leaning into the wall with one arm, and using that to prop her up to look at the guy across from her. "But they can't be stopped, so I'll just let them do as they please."

Jesse makes some vowel noise of dismissal, tossing his head to the side before bringing his gaze back to Beca. "It'll be fine."

"Well, yeah," Plucking imaginary lint from her jeans, she takes a moment to gather herself. "I'm just- you know me. Not wild about the parties, that's all."

His gaze is suddenly imploring, which kind of makes her want to throttle him. "Becs." He tuts, like she'd just admitted that she felt like she had zero friends whatsoever, and she didn't do such a thing, which doesn't do _anything_ to positively effect the way she'd been feeling around him lately. "Come here." He reaches out for her, one hand slipping under her thigh and the other snaking around her waist, lifting her a few inches over so that she was practically in his lap. She bristles.

"I-" She starts, one hand coming down on his chest to steady herself. He's grinning up at her, dopey and boyish; something she'd once found oddly charming but now it does nothing but remind her of how empty it makes something in her gut feel now. Like she's lost something. Some quintessential part of herself. And every time she's void of feeling, her mind responds in a knee-jerk whirl of panic.

"We don't spend enough time together anymore." He says softly, moving the hand out from under her thigh and having it come to rest just above her knee. Not prodding, not pressuring anything at all. Just holding her. Her panicked, elevated heart-rate kicks at her ribs brutely; guilt seeping through her.

"No." Her voice is almost a whisper, but it's not shaking, which is a good sign. To avoid eye contact, she drops her gaze downwards, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears as the fell in front of her face, just to give her something to do. A moment to buy time. She'd been avoiding him, and she knows this. "We don't. Things are just so busy." She tacks that last piece on as a deflection.

An excuse.

She'd heard hundreds of them in her lifetime. And overheard quite a few, too.

 _"Sorry, work has been overwhelming lately."_

 _"Deadlines, you know how it is."_

 _"I've been distracted."_

This is just a different version. Her own version. It makes her stomach somersault.

Clearing her throat, she tries to send him a reassuring smile. It feels about as real as JWoww's boobs. "We'll work on that." She adds quickly, not convincing herself any more. Luckily for her, Jesse had a pretty bad eye for spotting fake boobs, and empty promises, too, apparently. So the guilt sticks her to the mattress, curled up in Jesse's side as he forces her to watch Fight Club. And she uses the word ' _forced_ ' lightly. She was feeling pretty shitty about being a bad girlfriend and all, so she didn't put up much of a fight. Just enough to play it off like nothing was wrong. He offers to make more popcorn, and Beca vehemently protests.

They're somewhere near the end when his touch suddenly turns heavier, more purposeful. It's almost as if it's nothing; he's so gentle about it, running one hand along her waist and down to her behind, and her thighs. He always has been nothing other than a gentleman when it came to the bases, and how to approach them, and when- where. As she'd first gotten to know him, all those years ago, she was absolutely- albeit secretly- thrilled to find out that he had such manners about it all. He always fully understood the limits of _'no'_ if it was spoken, and very rarely questioned it. When she'd first entered the relationship, she sometimes thought Jesse was looking for sex when he wasn't; just because his movements were laden with casual momentum and so very non-soliciting. As time passed, however, Beca has gotten better at figuring out when he was simply moving to hold her, or when he was dipping into the waters for something more intimate.

"Jess." She says lightly, and she's pretty sure part of her was dying inside because now isn't a great time to turn him down after the whole ' _spending time together_ ' thing, but getting down and dirty is one of the last things she wants to do. He hums, the hand sliding back up her body to rest on her upper arm, prompting her to roll to her back. Inhaling deeply, she remains rooted to her side. "Maybe now isn't the best time?"

"It's been a while." He points out, his voice carrying a hopeful lilt that makes Beca have to remind herself that she's not kicking a puppy, just thinking rationally. Because it's true. She has a Bella party that she doesn't want to attend- but knows she must. Thankfully, it's providing her with a wonderful out to this situation. Jesse _does_ have a point though. She can hardly even remember the last time she's gotten physical in any way with him that didn't include shoulder punches or awkward hand holding. It's been three months maybe.

"I know, but I just, I-" She then rolls over, onto her back so that she can look at Jesse. He's propped up on his side, pretty much pouting down at her. "I don't think right now is the um- the best time."

The hand that had come to rest against her hipbone gives a light squeeze as Jesse exhales heavily through her nose. Beca's bad conscience immediately begins to berate her for walling up; because it isn't like Jesse is just some horndog boy who wants to get laid. He wants to _revive_ this. Give their relationship some mouth to mouth- both literally and figuratively- to try to breathe some life back into this mess. Be close to her. All that mushy stuff.

But the thing is; Beca's pretty sure he just doesn't get those motors running anymore. They're sticky to begin with. Her libido had never been a thing to overtake her, she couldn't relate to a lot of the things in Cosmo magazines, because to her, sex is just so... _finicky_. Bizarre. She really needs to be in the right mood to enjoy herself- and, sure, she'd given it up to Jesse on more than one occasional when she wasn't exactly _feeling it_ \- but it was as if her engine had completely died.

And maybe it's just him or maybe it's her entirely. She hasn't really done a lot of digging in that department, to try to get to the bottom of her abrupt cliff-drop of a sex drive. Beca usually just goes with her go-to response; stress.

"It's just-" She sighs, his frown twisting the knife in her gut. "Bellas, I have to be there, like- like-" Realizing she has no idea what time it actually is, Beca slumps farther into the mattress. She was digging herself a hole. " _soon_ -ish."

"Okay." It's clipped, and he withdraws his hands, relocating them to sit against her forearm and naval accordingly. The disappointment rolling off of him in waves. "I just don't understand why you don't-"

Her temper flares up, momentarily blinding her with white rage that sends her shooting to her feet, sparing a thought to Jesse's laptop and she carefully brushes it out of the way on her way up. "Jesus Jesse!" Disbelief rings through the shrill of her voice because of course _now_ was the time he wants to press it. And, okay, maybe he has a right to but Beca just isn't capable of holding that kind of conversation right now. "I just- I don't-"

"What?" He counters, thrusting himself upwards on the bed, throwing his hands out at his sides. His face was hardened into a frustrated mask, lips curled downwards into a deep scowl that reflected across the rest of his face. "What is it, Beca? Please, tell me."

She's overreacting. There would have been an easier way to shut down that dialogue than the course of action her body chose to go with. But, alas, here she is- going backwards in any progress on development in that whole department with a pissed Jesse across from her. Begging her to speak. Talk. Spit out what it is that was causing her to clam up. And she doesn't want to. Amy's right; she's hard-headed, but she also doesn't want to hurt Jesse. God, this whole situation was such a _steaming pile_ that Beca wanted to pull the hair from her head by the roots. To make matters worse, her ego swells about three sizes when he uses that tone of voice with her, a mixture of wounded and downright annoyed.

"Do you want to breakup, or something?" He finishes for her, once she'd spent a sufficient amount of time sputtering like an idiot. There wasn't really a nice way to tell your boyfriend that he doesn't turn you on anymore.

The suggestion knocks her around for a minute- her first reaction being to cross her arms in front of her chest and spit out a " _no_ " that she can't help but feel sounds more like a " _yes_ ". She doesn't want to. Or at least- in this moment, that's not really what she wants, that wasn't what she was trying to get at. Jesse's brows knit together for a moment, surveying her stance across from him.

"Are you _sure_ about that, Becs?" And maybe some of the anger has slipped from his voice, but there was still condescension to his tone. It does nothing to help her ruffled feathers. He presses onwards, however, through the affronted expression Beca was currently pulling. "Because, you don't want to hang out, whenever we do, you're so- so distant. You barely want to kiss me, you flinch pretty much every time I touch you."

Jesse may as well have just stabbed her in the stomach and started probing his fingers around in the wound, the feeling twisting painfully in her gut as he recited her romantic failures. Exposing her. Without thinking, she winces. This isn't what she wants. But he's so calm about it. Like she was already gone- and maybe that's what really hurt. Because she wasn't.

"Are you-? Do you-" He continues, brown eyes pleading with her now, betraying his vulnerability. "You're just not into me anymore?"

With that one, the hammer pretty much hits the nail on the head. The accusations accuracy startles Beca out of her gaping ego trip just fast enough for her defense mechanisms to come to her rescue. Not what she wants either. But she was an injured animal now, and cornered. "God, you know, I can't just be going through _one_ thing-" With a humourless laugh, she frantically tucks her hair behind her ears- achingly aware of how close the door was to her. How easy it could be to just storm out. "And you just- you get all, all butt-hurt because maybe I'm just not all that into sex right now?"

"If you're going through something," His voice raises slightly, irritation worming it's way through his composure as he stands. "Why can't you talk to me about it? Why are you shutting me out?"

And- _fuck_ \- maybe going through something wasn't the right way to word it. The guy was like a dog with a bone once he starts to get concerned. Her subtle shifting of the blame was just being thrown right back at her- and, no, it didn't feel good. Karma for thinking she could weasel her way out of this one.

Inhaling deeply through her nose, Beca begins rifling through the contents of her brain, wracking around trying to come up with something that may give her a way to work this through without running away again. But Jesse is slowly approaching her personal space, and she shuffles back a few steps- miscalculation. He stops dead, looking down at her with a frown that proves his point.

"I just-" The starts, seeing that look; and time is running out for her to salvage this. "I need some space right now, Jess."

"You need space?" He repeats, incredulous. "Becs- I have been _giving you_ space. For months!" He adds, his whole body rising; from his eyebrows arching to his hairline, his arms raising at the shoulders in a shrug, and he even raises on his tiptoes as he says it. "I don't know what else you want from me. If you won't talk to me-" Shaking her head, Beca clenches her jaw; there was a sting pricking the inside of her eyes that she didn't like the feeling of. Jesse cuts himself off with a sigh, scratching the back of his neck as he averts his eyes briefly from Beca. "Look, I know that this time of the year- I know, we've been over that-"

At that inflection, she baulks. "This has nothing to do with that."

He throws her a seriously unconvinced look at that one, but doesn't argue with it. The tension stretches on both sides; tangible; Beca felt like she could probably walk over it like an acrobat on a tightrope, the silence weighing her down. She could imagine the string dipping in the middle as she went, the pressure becoming too much before it snaps, sending her face-first into the dirt. Jesse shifts uncomfortably, foot to foot, avoiding her gaze.

"I'm going to go now." She says softly, after an indecipherable amount of time passed with the two of them standing there. It could have been thirty seconds. It could have been two minutes. She can't tell. Her sensations are busy being waterboarded by the tightness in her chest and the stinging in her eyes and nose. Jesse finally looks at her, sad, but he nods.

They don't fight often.

Beca collects herself for a moment, the itching feeling that she was missing something prodding at her while she smooths out the front of her shirt, and collects her phone from the table in the kitchenette. She should kiss him. She doesn't.

She inches her way to the door, hanging onto the doorknob for a moment longer than necessary before speaking. "I'll see you there?"

Jesse just nods again, and she's ducking her way back out of the dorm room, sniffling through the snot that had appeared in her nasal passage. She always snots when she cries. It's awful. She doesn't check her phone until she's safely in the elevator, tucked behind the doors and alone. It's nine thirty already. There are three missed text messages from Chloe- which somehow makes the tension in her chest explode, releasing the tears she'd been keeping at bay in her eyes. Quickly, she wipes them away with the back of her hand; an act she finds childish in a way but she isn't sure why. Probably just because she hates crying.

 _Um, you missed pre-party drinks. Disappointed in you, Mitchell. ;)_

 _You do realize I'll kill you if you're hiding out on our Halloween bash, right?_

 _Becs? Where are you?_

With a ding, the elevator opens up in the lobby and Beca takes another moment to compose herself, shoving her phone back into the pocket of her jeans and gripping her keys so tightly into her palm, that by the time she reaches her car, they've left a mark.

* * *

Chloe ambushes her the moment she sees her, which really isn't that unusual. But considering she'd been repeating the argument with Jesse to herself for the past forty-five minutes, she's definitely not in the best of moods. Chloe is unfazed by this. She's drunk, sure, but Beca is like ninety-seven percent sure that Chloe definitely knows that something is up with her because she's intuitive like that- and it doesn't take a mind-reader to catch onto the atmosphere she's putting off. She's pretty certain she could probably suck all the light from the room right now.

Which is why it's her first course of action to turn down the idea of haunted houses when she hears it; the notion of being scared out of her wits wasn't usually fun for her, but it was even less so now. Truth be told; she was a bit of a chicken. Even if she did have her scarce moments of bravery.

Chloe is pretty gung-fucking-ho about the haunted house though. Even when Beca comes up with an equally charitable solution to meet the girl halfway in the middle. But the girl is giving her that reproving look that tells Beca she knows better, and jabbing her a bit roughly in the sternum as she leans in with a lilting "You-" only to be cut off a few short seconds later. Questionably, Beca quirks a brow; not sure why Chloe has suddenly shut up. She manages to drag her jaw shut, before straightening. "We'll talk about this later." And then Beca is practically being whipped in the face by red locks as the girl is spinning around to grab the bottle of booze she'd just used to make Beca a drink and then plowing through the crowd.

"What was that?" Benji asks, staring in the direction Chloe's path had taken her. Shrugging, Beca lifts the drink from the counter and tilts it back against her mouth; the cinnamon heart flavour warming her as it slips down her throat. It was a bit strong. And Beca was a lightweight. But whatever. She finds herself begrudgingly making her way after Chloe to see what the fuss was about.

The fuss must have been the song- one of Chloe's many jams, and Stacie was just as happy to be joining her. Beca vaguely recognizes it; may have overheard it through the walls once or twice. It's catchy, sure. But Beca clings to the wall like it was her lifeline, watching Chloe dance- the urge to join didn't arise, not even when some of the other girls did. It was a bummer. She checked her phone; no missed text messages. Radio silence. Halfway through, Chloe notices her; a devious little grin on her lips as she saunters forwards, and it was almost infectious. Almost. When her eyes meet Chloe's, she rolls them obviously- hoping that will act as a deterrent. Of course it doesn't. She was coming for her, and Beca can't be positive that once she's caught, she'll be able to get out of dancing. She shakes her head still, but God- there really was something about Chloe that was magic. Which isn't something she thinks about people. Like, probably not even angels. But there's something so incredibly drawing about her person that makes it hard to look away. Lost, swimming in blues and reds, so much that she doesn't even notice Stacie's frame coming up behind Chloe before she's capturing the girl by the wrist, spinning her around and pulling their bodies flush together. Beca blinks, mind working to catch up with the scene in front of her.

It's probably almost R-Rated, what they're doing out there. Okay, maybe not really. She had been to highschool dances before. And in comparison to some of the other things she's seen over her university career; it's not that bad. Hell, she's actually seen Chloe naked in the shower and she's actually seen the pair of intoxicated idiots doing shirtless body shots off of one another. A surprisingly nice scene. Or, maybe she just remembered it so fondly because she was pretty hammered when she witnessed it; so of course it was exciting. She finishes her drink pretty quickly after that train of thought and returns to the kitchen.

Something happens later on though- some shift, somewhere in the night. Chloe was a wonderful distraction; the whole _Alpha_ - _magic-can't-take-your-eyes-off-of-me_ energy thing she has going on, and all. It happens after she somehow manages to convince Beca to dance on and off for an hour or two. After Beca is one cinnamon drink and three beers in- so, kind of pretty drunk, drunker than she'd like to be. After she meets that one Trebles High Notes girlfriend, who had come with a friendly tin of brownies as a party favour- and Beca thanks her, before confiscating them and storing them under the desk in her bedroom. Because she is not risking anyone else finding these. After she locates a _very_ drunk Legacy teetering around with Benji, and takes her to bed. Beca's bed, because, _no_ she didn't know what dorm she was in and _no_ she wasn't walking there.

"Thanks Beca," Emily slurs happily, flopping down against Beca's bed with that same exuberant vigor she always had. "You know, I'm so happy I'm a Bella."

It reminds her of Chloe's hammered rambling. She smiles to herself, patting Emily awkwardly on the back and doing her best to tuck the girl under her covers. She mumbles something else incoherent into Beca's pillow before switching off like a light switch, leaving Beca alone, in her room, trapped in her own head.

She'd still heard no word from Jesse. She'd been checking periodically through the night, and he hadn't texted her, nor showed up. It reminds her of the way things were when her parents were hitting the bumpiest part of their marriage- but with altered positions now, and that makes Beca kind of sick to her stomach. Not literally, but still. That exhaustion weighs on her and she drags her feet over to Amy's bed, pausing as she reaches it's side. She wants quiet. To sleep. To wake up in the morning with a fresh start, and maybe she could swallow her pride enough to apologize to Jesse. But, there's a stain on Amy's comforter and she isn't sure it's origin, so she botches that idea, and she finds her feet moving in search of peace by their own accord.

Finds herself shoving open Chloe's bedroom door and shutting it behind her, not bothering to turn on the light or the lamp but instead pulling herself to the bed and falling onto it.

She likes Chloe's room. There was always something about it. Sure, it may be small. But the atmosphere held some kind of serene, harmonious comfort that Beca thinks might be a direct tie to Chloe. It smells like fresh linen with a very subtle scent of cinnamon under the surface, and the girl keeps it military issue clean, like all the time. Even in the dark, Beca is pretty sure she could navigate the room like the back of her hand.

The dresser beside the bed. The guitar in the corner, near the window. The thin, but tall bookshelf adjacent to it that housed not only books, but wicker baskets full of paraphernelia that ranges from those wooden choreo figures to old Spice Girls CD's to- what Beca had accidentally stumbled across one time- a box of sex related items. She knows now to avoid the wicker basket on the top shelf at all costs.

 _"Becs, can you grab the choreo figures?"_ Chloe had asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of her bed, brow furrowed as she followed some Bellas related train of thought.

Beca, knowing that the creepy figures were in one of those baskets, but not knowing which one, had decided to look from top to bottom. " _Sure, Chlo,"_ she gets on her tiptoes to reach the basket at the top. Beside it, some horizontally laid Biology and Sociology textbooks. The basket is pretty wedged in there, but with a tug, it comes free and Beca puffs. " _I-_ "

She stopped short when the contents of said basket came into view. Without pause, a violent heat was making it's way across her ears and face, all the way down her neck. She was pretty sure her toes would have been blushing if she could see them. " _Oh- ah_!" Averting her eyes, Beca vainly struggles to get the basket back in it's rightful place. The dying cat noise she makes alerts Chloe to something being off, and the girl was swivelling around to look at her; catching the end movement of the basket being replaced back on the shelf.

" _Whoops_." Sheepishly, Chloe gives her a lopsided grin. " _Sorry, Becs._ "

" _Could you warn a girl next time?_ " She grumbles, the embarrassment running thickly through her bloodstream under Chloe's gaze.

" _Kind of forgot._ " Chloe admits, one shoulder lifting in a lame shrug, but her eyes sparkling as she takes in Beca's bashful demeanour. " _Oh, come on, it's just sex-_ "

" _Nope._ " Quickly, Beca interrupts whatever it is that Chloe is about to say; vehemently waving her hand around her head, like she was trying to swat away a fly. " _Don't wanna know._ "

Chloe rolls, so that she's now on her stomach, ankles tied together in the air and her head propped up by her elbows. She suddenly has that imploring look she gets whenever she suggests any kind of bonding. Clearing her throat, Beca turns away from the look, back towards the shelf. " _Um, where are they? I don't want to find anything else I shouldn't_."

" _Second to bottom shelf._ " Chloe replies, without missing a beat. With a grunt of acknowledgment, Beca stoops down, pulling the wicker basket out. " _So, what was your first time like?_ "

Hands tightening around the wicker, Beca jolts upright. " _Dude! You don't just-_ "

Chloe's laughter washes over her, big blue eyes rolling at Beca's offense. " _I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours! I was sixteen-_ "

A sound of protest leaves Beca, and she shakes her head. " _I really don't want to hear about your sexual ventures._ "

" _His name was Will Barnes, we were in algebra together-_ "

" _Chloe._ "

" _-He was_ super _smart, so I asked him to tutor me, and one day I went to his house after school and-_ "

" _Chloe I will leave if you don't stop talking about losing your virginity._ " It's an empty threat, but only because to leave she would have to pass by Chloe, and she knew for a fact the redhead wouldn't let her go. But she still makes a show to look like she's heading for the door. As suspected, Chloe sits up reaches one arm out to block her path, but doesn't let up.

" _No, you can't leave, we're doing choreo-_ "

" _Then let's maybe talk about choreo, and not this_." She smiles sarcastically, but Chloe just pouts.

" _We're_ bonding." She insists, and Beca snorts, turning back to the wicker basket. She wasn't even going to dignify that with an answer. " _Just tell me like-_ two _details._ "

Throwing her head back against her shoulders with a guttural groan, Beca eyes Chloe unhappily. " _Why do you want to know?_ "

Chloe throws her arms out at her sides, one eyebrow quirking downwards as she gave Beca a bewildered kind of expression. " _Um, hello? Girl talk!_ "

" _Yeah, I um, I don't do that._ " She says slowly, pulling the wooden figures from the basket and placing them on Chloe's bed, just for something to do. Honestly, she found it kind of embarrassing. Because not only was she the last one of her friends to lose the _V-Card_ , as they would say, she'd finally relented to the idea of it in what she personally finds to be a _very_ humiliating manner. She'd been the last one to be kissed, too, so at least she was consistent.

 _"Please?_ " Chloe's lower lip juts out, blue eyes twinkling. " _For me? Just like, two details?_ "

With a huff, Beca drops the last wooden man to the mattress and grumbles a very unhappy ' _fine_ ' before eyeing the girl warily. " _It sucked. His name was Justin_."

Hoping to quench Chloe's curiosity with those two tidbits of information, she raised a wooden figure in the air, wordlessly suggesting they get back to their actual work.

" _How old were you?_ " Of course it was a trap.

Narrowing her eyes, Beca drops the figure to her side. " _You said two details_."

" _That was like one and a half,_ " She argues, " _Everybody's first time sucks_."

She holds Chloe's gaze for a long moment; it was hopeful and digging, shining bright. Logically, she knew that Chloe wouldn't care that she was the last one. Maybe she'd tease her. And it's not like it really mattered it was just adolescent embarrassment that reminded her of why she hated high school. So teasing wasn't really a big deal, anyway. Because, after all, she had a boyfriend now so what did it really matter anyway?

" _Eighteen_." She mutters, finally breaking away from the gaze. One of Chloe's perfectly plucked brows raise in surprise.

" _Oh?_ " She says, " _Late bloomer?_ "

" _Shut up_."

" _What? No, it's- it's totally fine!_ " Chloe laughs, leaning forwards. Something tells Beca that she's going to pry the story from her, one way or the other. She does. And, red-faced, Beca explains the situation that had occurred while she was more than a little bit drunk at a friend's house party, and the whole event was borne from one part liquor and another part desperation on her behalf to finally get it over with. She even fesses up to the fact that they were walked in on. Chloe can't stop her giggles and Beca eventually shoves her over on the bed, folding her arms over her chest defensively and scowling. " _It was the worst_." She finishes crossly, " _I can't believe you're laughing at me!_ "

" _Aw, Becs!_ " Chloe cooes, bouncing back upright immediately and wrapping her arms around Beca's waist in a hug. Beca tensed, and squirmed, because at that point in time she hadn't yet learned to embrace Chloe's affectionate personality. " _You're adorable!_ "

Flustered, Beca had pried Chloe's limbs from her and held the girl at arms length. " _I-what-no!_ " She stutters, unable to meet Chloe's warmhearted ogling any longer. " _Stop. Shut up. I'm not._ "

Chloe pulls her hands away from Beca's grip, only to give her one last pat on the head that has Beca's pride swelling unhappily. " _I think you are_." The girl hums, turning away and settling back down onto the floor at the foot of her bed. " _And I think this Justin fella should consider himself lucky_."

The comment had thrown Beca for a bit of a toss-up. Something she didn't respond to, but she could feel herself blush and she wanted to die, eventually grunting and pulling the wooden figures back down onto the floor, returning to choreo like they were supposed to- _twenty minutes ago_.

Chloe had always made her devotion to her friendships quite clear. She liked to give compliments. And she gave them often. Especially to Beca. She was physical, always had been, and she could slip past even the greatest defenses with ease. This, Beca knew first hand.

She likes to think of Chloe as her best friend. Maybe her best friend... _ever._ And no, she didn't have a lot of experience in that department; even the people she had hung around with in high school could only be called a friend at bare minimum and they probably weren't even that. She hardly saw them outside of school hours and nor did she really yearn to, either. And it's nice. She's glad she has that with someone; chiefly with someone who managed to be as great as Chloe Beale. Sometimes, she felt like she could gloat about it. Like, oh yeah- that _embodied piece of sunshine_ who also happens to be hot as hell? That's her _best friend_. Eat your heart out, douches everywhere. It's peculiar, because she's pretty sure if Chloe Beale had actually attended the same high school as her- she'd probably write scathing journal entries about how obnoxiously nice she is. Criticize her for being so, question her moral character, and secretly believe Chloe had some kind of hidden evil agenda because nobody was _that_ nice. Even her first year at Barden; Chloe had weirded her out _before_ she had stepped into Beca's shower by triumphantly announcing that she makes music with her mouth. And during hood night she thought that there was a fifty percent chance that Aubrey and Chloe- mostly Chloe, because she smiled so much and she wasn't sure what to do with that information- were going to sacrifice her to some kind of cult.

Alas, here she is four years later. Not dead, and calling that girl her best friend.

She likes to think that maybe she's Chloe's best friend too. Beca knows that Aubrey is stiff competition; and hell, she actually could make peace being runner-up to the blonde ex-captain. But the fact of the matter is that Aubrey just isn't around anymore; and Chloe's reliance on physical presence is strong. So she comes to Beca. And Beca stopped minding that a long time ago. It's the reason she's lead to believe that Chloe might consider her a 'best friend' of sorts. Sure, she's close with Stacie, with Amy, with Jessica- but she doesn't often hold their hands. If there's a choice, she'll always sit next to Beca and sometimes she'll lean in and sometimes she'll fall asleep with her head against her shoulder. On more than one occasion, Beca has been struck by the sheer intimacy in those moments, but, they no longer made her uncomfortable. She enjoyed them.

She's half asleep when the light flickers on beyond her eyelids- shortly followed by a yelp of surprise and it registers with Beca that she'd been dozing off face-down on Chloe's bed. Blearily, she turns her head towards the girl; who had a hand resting against her chest, surely suffering from something of a mini-heart attack. "Sorry." She murmurs, and she can see the tension drop from Chloe's shoulders.

"What-what are you doing?" She asks, brow furrowing in confusion. "Laying in the dark?"

And she supposes it is a bit strange, that she's wandered here of all places and decided to lay down- all without telling Chloe. "Sorry." Is all she can come up with again in her groggy state, rolling herself onto her back, she explains the situation that lead her here. The shock ebbs away from the redhead, who eventually turns to begin grabbing the night gear from her dresser. This must mean the party has come to an end; she's not sure what time it is, but it feels entirely too late- or too early for her liking. When she tries to leave though, as usual, Chloe stops her.

"What? Where are you going?" Those big blue eyes are blinking at her like she's just told Chloe she had a flight to catch. "I thought you didn't want to sleep in Amy's bed?"

After being informed that the couch isn't a sleeping option- which is horribly irksome to her- Beca finds herself with Chloe's pyjamas being shoved into her hands and more of a demand than an invitation to stay with her in her bed for the night. Beca can only protest so much in her exhaustion, and she finally relents, leaving the room to get changed. She sees the dude passed out on the couch for herself, and slips into one of the second floor bathrooms to brush her teeth and pull Chloe's red ' _Westside Lions'_ highschool soccer shirt on, followed by a pair of sleeping trunks. The shirt smells like Chloe; linen and cinnamon and the other unique, but familiar smell that someone comes to associate with someone else they know well. It makes her sleepy. She gets back to the bed before Chloe does, and hesitates before crawling into the far side.

Once Chloe joins her, and so gently asks her if she's okay, Beca doesn't know what it is that possesses her to word vomit everywhere. _Maybe_ it's because Chloe is her best friend. _Maybe_ it's because Jesse still hasn't texted her, and she feels like she's falling down some Twilight zone of her past. So she dishes out her adolescent fear of death and totally opens up like a giant lame nerd and she immediately kind of hates herself afterwards, because she doesn't let that stuff out. Like ever. Like, she'd only ever let that out before to Jesse. Who she was currently arguing with and- oh _shit_. Shit. _God_.

But at least Chloe doesn't think she's weird and she doesn't talk to Beca like she pities her, which is nice. She still kind of hates herself though. As usual- Chloe is a great distraction. She doesn't stop being a great distraction even now.

* * *

When Beca wakes, it's to her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth like glue, and she isn't sure what time it is. She strains to hear for a few heartbeats; but the Bella house is silent. An indicator that it's either very early, or everyone was sleeping in as a collective group. Neither of those options bother her.

Bare legs slip against hers as Chloe shifts in her sleep; alerting Beca to the fact that she's got her legs tangled in Beca's, one hand strewn over her stomach above the sheets. It's something she always forgets if she ends up sleeping in the same space as Chloe; she was an awful bedmate. Be it hogging the blankets and the entirety of the mattress- because, _big surprise_ , her other arm was thrown out and stretched across almost the entire right side of the bed, but yet her body was nearly crushed right against Beca, when at some point during the night they must have collided. And, Chloe, amidst her sleeping desire to consume all space and all blankets, had calculated Beca to be bedspace; and tried to grip at her as well.

In other words, Chloe was a cuddler.

Shifting, she carefully tries to detangle herself from the other girl's limbs without waking her. Easier said than done. As she plucks Chloe's wrist from her abdomen, she mumbles something in her sleep, causing Beca to freeze. With an askance glance in Chloe's direction, she searches her sleeping frame for any sign of rouse. Her mouth is still hung open against the pillow; she has some dry drool at the corner of her mouth- _charming_ \- and her red locks are splayed around her. But she doesn't look like she's been woken.  
Wrist still in hand, Beca eases her legs out from under Chloe's, only letting go of the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding until her bare feet come into contact with the floor. And, just as gently, she places Chloe's hand back against the bed.

The light seeping in from the window is a soft, watered-down grey, but it still irritates her vision. Pushing herself to her feet, Beca makes her way over to the window, wincing as she pulls the blinds down and they fall with a loud shuffling sound that makes Beca want to die. It's raining out. October in Atlanta.

"Becs?" It's a sleep-addled mumble, one that makes Beca internally kick herself for being so noisy.

Turning back to Chloe, she watches as the girl rubs at her eyes with her knuckles in a movement that's totally childish and for some reason it's really endearing. "Sorry." Sheepishly, Beca gestures back towards the blinds, "I was just trying to shut those."

"What time is it?"

Beca shrugs, smoothing her hands over the washed-out red material of the shirt Chloe had leant her absently. "Dunno."

With a grunt, Chloe rolls around onto her stomach, using both hands to probe around under her pillows. Beca furrows her brows as she watches, only realizing what in the world the girl was doing when she fishes her cellphone from somewhere under their depths. Chloe clicks the screen on and tuts, immediately dropping back into the bed. "Six-thirty." One eye pokes open from under her lashes, the blue catching on a sliver of light that was managing to make it's way through the cracks of the blinds, and she pats the space beside her. "Come back."

She remains stuck, but considers it. "I'm hungover."

"Me too." Chloe reassures her, shuffling farther into her ' _designated_ ' side of the bed that Beca knows full well that she won't stick to if she climbs back in. "Let's sleep it off some more."

For some reason she can't argue, even with that knowledge. She trudges back to the bedside, pulling the covers close, letting her eyes close just as Chloe scoots to her side; now a _deliberate_ cuddler. Beca makes an immense effort to pretend to be frustrated, nudging Chloe in the ribs lightly a few times and squirming, which only prompts the girl to hang on tighter. It's pretty habitual. They'd been over it a thousand times; Beca pretending to be annoyed but secretly relenting after a while. It had been a long journey filled with baby steps for them to get to this point- one in which Beca no longer accused Chloe of being a massive creep for curling up into her like she did for the better part of her sophomore year, and instead made peace with it. When a hand slips it's way under Beca's own arm, splaying out over her stomach atop of the blankets, pinning her back against Chloe, she receives a sudden throttle of reminders of Jesse. It was exactly the move he used to trap her into cuddling during movie sessions. Not last time, though. Because they had totally ended up getting into a stupid argument. And he hadn't showed up to the party. Nor had he texted her. But once she stills, this admonition of Jesse wriggling it's way under her skin, she feels Chloe heave in a contented sigh against her back. She feels different than Jesse- _obviously_ \- but they share the same warmth and solidity that Beca privately finds a disgustingly mammoth-sized amount of comfort in. Even if she's pretty sure that she can feel Chloe's boobs against her back, which is information she isn't sure what to do with.

But the stupidest part about this- being held, in any way shape of form- is that it kind of makes her brain shut down. She's pretty sure it's her instinct of escaping being suppressed that makes her brain start making farting noises and unable to process thoughts as well as it usually does. She'd never been a cuddler. Not even with her mom as a kid- she would throw her limbs out and put as much space between them as if the woman had the bubonic plague- and _definitely_ not her dad. Affection made her feel weird. And not a good weird. An _'I'm uncomfortable that you're this close to me and trying to hold me_ ' weird. It wasn't until entering a relationship- a serious relationship where physical touch was necessary and required- not to mention having to live under the same roof as Chloe Beale and her atrocious lack of regard for personal space- that she had come to ease herself out of that little habit. Or cope with it. And she, once it stopped feeling like she was somehow being violated and had gotten comfortable- well, she can say she _enjoys_ it. To herself and only herself. She'll never admit it aloud. So, yeah- it turns her brain to puddy for a few minutes but she comes around eventually.

By the time she comes around this go, Chloe's breath has evened out again against her neck, and Beca's eyes come into focus on her phone against Chloe's nighstand. She reaches out for it, carefully, under Chloe's many limbs.

There's still not a missed message.

* * *

They wake up again somewhere around eleven, drag themselves out of Chloe's bed after fifteen minutes lamenting about hangovers and discussing grabbing some greasy fast food burgers for breakfast. Some of the Bellas are up by the time they exit the room; the unknown guy on the couch was gone, replaced instead by Amy sipping what she can only assume is ' _hair of the dog'_ from a comically oversized mug emblazoned with a picture of George Clooney; a pair of sunglasses sitting over her eyes. And Beca has never really _'got'_ what possessed Amy to order it online, but it had been around for a while now. Amy just states that it's because he's _a silver fox_ , and Beca has never cared to question beyond that. As she and Chloe round the corner into the living room, the Tasmanian smirks and addresses them with a very formal ' _Bhloe_ ' and a once-over that has Beca furrowing her eyes suspiciously. Chloe doesn't seem to notice, just breezes on past to the kitchen.

"Where'd you disappear to last night?" She asks the girl sitting across from her, only to sever the tension.

Amy lifts the cup to her lips, taking a long swig and then bringing it back down to hover inches from her mouth, an airy shrug accompanying the movement. "I could ask you the same thing."

Avoiding the question. Beca suspects Bumper, who she seems to have been favouring lately over the rest of her many boyfriends. "I've been in the house all night." Beca challenges, taking a few steps towards the kitchen, "You, definitely, were not." With that, she drops the topic. She's a little too hungover to really prod her about it right now. Not that she even cares, really; she isn't Aubrey, and doesn't believe nor wish for Amy's throat to be torn out by wolves.

In the kitchen, Chloe offers to run and grab hangover food with Flo. Beca stays, and begrudgingly cleans the back patio with Cynthia Rose; only after downing a heaping glass of water and brewing a coffee for her to bring with her while she works. The clean-up is more manageable than she thought, especially when Ashley comes to join them. When that's done, Beca kind of realizes she's still wearing Chloe's pyjamas; and she takes a trip to her room; attentive to her steps as she avoids waking Legacy, who's still passed out in her bed. And so she takes her clothes to the bathroom and changes there, but she's wearing her comfiest pair of sweats and maybe the largest shirt she owns, so, she still doesn't plan to be going anywhere. She just folds Chloe's clothing and returns it to her bedroom, which Amy happens to be passing at that same moment, and she's giving Beca that bizarre look again.

By the time the two women return with a bounty of burgers, all of the Bellas- minus Stacie- are congregated around the kitchen island.

"I'm never drinking again." Emily murmurs into the counter, her forehead pressed firmly against the surface.

"I'll grab you some water." Chloe offers, still with burger bags in one hand as she pats the girls back, leaning over her to put the bags on the counter. Which Amy immediately tears into, nearly knocking poor Jessica off of her stool in the process. Beca waits. She's small, and she wouldn't be much use in a fight for food- despite her love for it. Genetics just weren't on her side. That's why she would never survive in the apocalypse.

The red-head pulls a glass from the cupboard and fills it, stopping by one of the burger bags on her way back and reaching in to grab a box before reaching over the counter to place both objects in front of Emily. The girl grunts an appreciative but pained 'thank you' and Chloe just flashes her a grin, diving back into the bag. Beca has to twist her mouth down to keep herself from smiling like a dork at Chloe's inner mother-bird inclination.

"No probs." She assures, pulling one box out, and placing it on the counter in front of her, and a third to slide at Beca, who blinks in response. Chloe winks. "I know you're too weak to fight for scraps right now, Becs."

"How're you like, not hungover? Like ever?" She questions, fumbling with the clasp on the box. She can already feel herself salivating at the thought of proper hangover food, and it's pretty gross.

"I _am_ hungover." Chloe doesn't miss a beat, furrowing one brow and pouting slightly, like she's offended at the accusation.

Beca shakes her head, pulling the burger free and holding it near her mouth. "No, you _say_ you're hungover," Pointing one finger at the girl from around her meal, "but no one who is hungover is as happy as you." And then she takes a bite, watching as Chloe's face shifts into a bright smile again, just proving her point.

Once the Bellas had finished their fast-food meal, an unofficial movie day was declared once they gathered into the living room and Jessica idly slipped a movie into the DVD player. Beca, who had been perched on the arm of the couch, bracketing Flo while the girl shared a story about hangover remedies in her home country, had immediately noticed the movement, no matter how sly. She'd excused herself and gone to her bedroom, providing her with one of the rare circumstances where she actually got out of a Bella-house movie date without being metaphorically burned for witchcraft like it was 1692.

Upstairs, she contemplated texting Jesse. There was still nothing from him. He was maybe giving her space, or trying to- because that is what she asked for, after all. Even if she wasn't one hundred percent sure she meant it. It didn't feel that way though. It felt like the cold shoulder, which was very middle-school for her to actually acknowledge feeling, but part of her wanted Jesse to come to her first. Just to make sure she hadn't actually brushed him away that bad, that he wasn't avoiding her the way she was avoiding him. And God- the whole situation would be so much easier if she wasn't so ' _Beca_ ' about things as simple and stupid as sending a text message, but, here she was; sitting at the foot of her bed staring at the last chain of messaged she'd shared with the guy, willing to see something new appear on the screen. Knowing she'd feel exhausted if it did.

* * *

It's not until the next evening that she sees Chloe. She had been somewhere between finally sending Jesse a text message- the weight of her guilt finally dropping down on her- asking him to a late dinner considering it was seven thirty and she'd just gotten back from Residual Heat- and seeking a little bit of breathing room after Amy had bombarded her relentlessly with questions about her ' _mopey face_ '. So, that brought her outside of the Bella house, her mind no longer consciously telling her where to go and her feet simply taking her on a route down the driveway and across the street, now maybe a block away. Thinking about choreo and sets wasn't distracting enough; because it felt like her phone was burning a hole through her body where it lay pressed in her coat pocket with the sheer stillness of it.

She'd fucked up.

She was stubborn, like her dad. She was impatient, like her mom. She had wrapped herself up in an abrasive, awkward, sarcastic package that did nothing to help her own social abilities. And while she was trying to tone down the Oscar-worthy depressing monologue that kept repeating in her mind, she did feel a little bit naive to believe that she could seriously get away with being all of those things without entirely sabotaging herself and her relationships.

It was somewhere during Beca's attempt to pull herself out of the mental toilet when she'd collided with an object.

"I, oh- ah," She fumbles with pulling the headphones off of her head- because yeah, obviously she'd been wearing them- feeling the heat rush up into her neck for being so oblivious. She used to have a bad habit of watching her feet when she walked.

When she finally snaps her head up to look at the body she'd just walked into, she arches her eyebrows in surprise as the figure before her turns out to be none other than Chloe, who was staring back at her with an equal amount of shock slack on her face. The girl has a pair of earbuds held in her own hands, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail- although she was subject to a few flyaways- and she clearly had a thin layer of sweat on her forehead. She screws up her face, "Beca?"

"Hi." She responds slowly, watching Chloe's face shift from astonishment to a more concerned state. Which was likely, because it wasn't like Beca was going for walks on a regular basis. After her already too emotional spew, albeit slightly intoxicated rambling to the girl the other night, she can't afford any other questions, though. "Cardio?" Gesturing lamely to Chloe, she reminds herself to smile. Like she was happily unbothered about bumping into her. Not that she was bothered- not at all- but with the girl's impressive ability to navigate all things related to ' _Beca behaviour_ ', it was like wandering through a path full of landmines.

Chloe's head drops down to look at herself, and she mirrors Beca's grin. Hers is a lot more convincing though. "Yeah." It's airy, followed by an exhaled chuckle as she shifts from foot to foot. "What are you doing out?"

This would be the tricky part. And it's already been established that lying to Chloe kind of makes Beca feel like a giant dildo, so she searches for a few moments before coming up with something. "Oh. Migraine. Amy was being a little bit overbearing, so," She trails off, gauging Chloe's reaction for any sign of her being onto the lie. But she's nodding along, one brow dipping in sympathetic concern again, but not scrutinizing. "Thought I'd get some air."

It was almost the whole truth. Because she _did_ have a migraine and Amy _was_ being overbearing.

"Backrub?" Chloe suggests, her head cocking to the side slightly. And at that, Beca feels her lips twitch in a smile a little bit more real.

"I don't really think this is the place," Beca wrinkles her nose up, taking in their surroundings again with an exaggerated theatricality.

Chloe rolls her eyes, baby blues twinkling in the lowlight. "I meant at the house."

"Oh, really? I couldn't tell."

" _Ha_." The girl pokes her tongue out of her mouth at Beca's sarcasm, before biting back. "you're so funny."

Beca, layering her voice with so much sweetness it could cause cavities, bats her eyelashes and responds with nothing more than a simple ' _thanks!_ ' that has Chloe pursing her lips, giving the girl before her a once-over. It takes her a moment longer than it should for her to then realize that she and Chloe are just kind of standing there now, staring at each other, and Beca isn't sure if she should just depart and say that she'll see Chloe back at the house, or if it was expected now for her to walk back with her. She drops her mouth open to say something- but the girl across from her is speaking again and Beca can't help but feel a bit relieved.

"So, what's your game-plan?"

She blinks. "My what?"

"Your game-plan." Chloe repeats again, leaning forwards slightly for emphasis. Beca is still lost. "Like, what are you doing right now?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean?"

"Are you just on a walk?" Chloe waves her hand around freely, "or are you going somewhere?"

"Oh. No, I-" Beca shakes her head, shifting back half a step. Absently, she reaches for her phone in her pocket, pulling it out and turning the screen on quickly- she still hadn't missed a text. There was a bit of a gnawing feeling in her stomach; the anxiety finally dying down and reminding her instead that she was actually a bit hungry. Frowning, she stuffs the thing back into her pocket and meets Chloe's gaze again; patient yet imploring. "Do you want to get some food?" She finds herself asking, without really thinking about it.

Chloe's smile softens a bit, and she affectionately giggles to herself. "I already ate, Bec. It's like, eight o'clock."

"Right." She mentally slaps herself. "Do you want to come with me while I get some food?"

* * *

She _does_ want to. Together, they make their way to the on-campus coffee shop, which was about a ten minute walk from the street they'd mutually found each other on. Strangely enough, once they figured out which steet that was; Beca had no recollection of ever hearing about said street in the four years of her on-campus living and Chloe had mused that the house on the corner looked familiar and maybe they'd drunkenly wandered there before. Beca, of course, thought back to her worry with Chloe's high ambling around a few weeks ago. Didn't say anything about that, though. If she gave it another month or so before digging it back up, she could watch Chloe get all worked up again. For the time being, though, she thinks she's exhausted the topic.

"So," Twisting the cap from the vitamin water she'd purchased at the counter, Chloe slipped into the chair across from Beca, tipping the bottle against her lips before continuing. Beca, who'd spent five minutes indecisively humming about the burrito or the soup- she'd gone with the soup, even though neither one looked very appealing, given it was the end of the night- looked up, spoon hovering over the steaming bowl. "When I was running, I had the best idea about choreo."

Tentatively, she delved the spoon into the bowl, swirling it in the broth. "Anyone ever tell you you're a bit obssessed?"

Giving her a reproving look, Chloe walks right over that and continues, exuberantly trying to explain the new addition. Without the aid of her trusty wooden figures, it consisted of a lot of furrowed brow, hand movements, and a bit of chair dancing- all in which Beca stared at with growing surprise as Chloe excited herself, the volume of her voice making a slow, but steady upwards degree. Until she manages to get her point across and beams, leaning back in her chair with a puff as one hand reaches out for her water once again.

" _Wow_." A blink punctuates the end of her proclamation, as she drops her attention back to her soup. She'd been so distracted by the display of Chloe trying to demonstrate it to her, that she'd forgotten about it. To be honest, she'd barely paid attention to the whole ' _choreo'_ part of it, because she'd been enjoying watching the girl out-dork herself too much. "Anyone ever tell you you're a bit of a spaz?" She sends a wry grin in the redhead's direction, just to let her know she didn't entirely mean it.

Chloe sets the bottle against the table, folding her hands on the surface and pouting slightly, before a crease forms thoughtfully between her brows. "My friend Millie Bauer in seventh grade used to tell me I was a spaz. She told me I should date some other Hunter boy, because he was also a spaz."

Beca quirks a lone brow, finally working up the courage to lift the spoon to her mouth, blowing on it lightly. "Millie Bauer sounds a bit like a dick." She notes, before shrugging and slurping up the broth uncertainly. It wasn't awful. "No offense to your seventh grade friendship, or anything."

The girl mimicks her action, raising her shoulder in a half-hearted shrug before waving away the statement. "None taken. She turned out to be a klepto, too, so,"

"You cut her loose?" She teases, dipping back into her soup.

Chloe observes her cuticles, sighing dramatically without looking up as she spoke. "Nobody takes my Ginger Spice Barbie and thinks they can stick around in _my_ life." Bright blue eyes peek mischievously at Beca, a small smirk ghosting the corners of the redhead's mouth as she leans forward, index finger poking in her direction. "Remember that, Mitchell."

Stifling laughter, Beca nods emphatically from around her spoon. "Cold-blooded, Beale."

"Bitches gots to learn."

Eyebrows arching towards her hairline, failing miserably to repress the smile that broke out over her cheeks; but Beca no longer found herself willing to care. "What did you do?" She was suddenly filled with the desperation to know.

"If I told you," Chloe's voice is a conspiritorial hush as she props her head up with one fist under her chin. "I'd have to kill you." She winks, and Beca feels herself narrow her eyes at the girl across from her. There was a story, but she doubts it could really be as interesting as the girl was embellishing it to be.

After a few beats of silent eye contact, Beca shakes her head. "God, you're weird."

Frowning, Chloe blinks at her and Beca scoffs, diving back in with her spoon. Only in time to see the girl's free hand shoot across the table and wrap around the bowl, sliding it to her side in a motion that Beca personally finds shouldn't be so swift nor should it be done so mercilessly. Synapses tell her a little too slowly what had happened, as three things happen simultaneously. Her spoon collides with the tabletop, she lets out an indignant noise somewhere from the back of her throat, and Beca's head snaps up so fast she nearly gives herself whiplash in order to throw daggers at the other girl. " _Dude!_ "

"You've called me like, three mean things since we sat down." Chloe reprimands, still pouting, still pawing the bowl of soup protectively against her side of the table. Beca still reaches for it, only to be swatted away by Chloe's other hand and scolded with a noise often reserved for a kitten that had started scratching the furniture.

Beca's mouth flounders for a moment. "It was like, a term of endearment."

Chloe's hum is disbelieving, but she removes her hand from the bowl, eyeing Beca carefully, like she was some feral beast. After a moment's pause, Beca reaches out again, no less confused by the other girl's expression. "You're lucky you're cute." The redhead mumbles, meeting Beca's dark blues once again with a mirthful grin. "Or else you'd find out what happened to Millie Bauer."

She can feel her cheeks begin heating up at the compliment. She can see the way Chloe is looking at her, knowing _exactly_ what she was doing- and _loving_ it- by the way her grin is reaching for her eyes. Beca deflects her gaze immediately, back down at her returned meal and delving in, trying to regain hold on her bravado. She probably shoves the spoon into her mouth a little too quickly though to come across as someone anything near stoic, though. She thickly swallows the spoonful and clears her throat. "Yeah. I'd still like to know what happened with that."

Chloe smiles winningly. "Wouldn't you? I- oh!" The girl cuts herself off with a startled chirp of surprise, her eyes flicking past Beca as she brings one hand in a broad ark over her head. "Benji, Jesse- hi!"

Beca nearly chokes on her spoon as the name leaves Chloe's mouth. Swivelling in her chair, Beca follows her line of sight; easily finding the two in the mostly empty cafe. The barista behind the counter looks more and more like she wants to die with every end-of-shift customer that enters the door, and this time, Beca couldn't blame her. The two guys smile politely as they see the redhead waving them over, and Benji holds up his index finger in a request to wait a moment as he approaches the counter. Jesse grins sheepishly, a look that Beca returns, before pulling her phone from her pocket. Still no answer from him.

That little shit.

"Weird, right?" Chloe reaches for her bottle. "What're the chances of running into them in here?"

Beca shrugs, her appetite diminishing once again in favour of the bundle of nerves that swarmed in her stomach, but she continues to down the soup in hopes of remaining casual. Once they've ordered and recieved their burritoes at the counter, the two or making their way over to the table; and Beca suddenly couldn't be happier that they'd decided to sit at a two-person one instead of taking up space in one of the larger tables.

"Hey guys," Benji greets as he approaches, a small, but no less excited smile on his face. "Out for a bite?"

"Well, Beca is," Chloe gestures towards her, and she makes herself look busy. This soup wasn't going to last forever, though, she was already about two-thirds finished with it. "I'm just here for company. You guys?"

"Car's in the shop again," Jesse steps in this time, and he's doing a pretty okay job with appearing non-chalant, but he's doing that awkward feet shifting thing that he does when he's antsy, and Beca can tell. It takes an immense effort not to glare at him. "And since we were supposed to go shopping for real food, well... We're kind of limited, now."

"Popcorn not sustaining you anymore, Jess?" She pipes up, and the boy catches her eye with a small, chastised grin. Beca raises her brows, before lowering her own gaze back at the soup.

"No," He clears his throat, laughing lightly. "Not really. It lacks a lot of the essential nutrients."

Chloe hums in agreement, unbeknownst to the tension in the exchange. "Yeah, good call with the burrito. At least there's... beans, and stuff?"

"Well, I hope so." Jesse inspects the food in his hands a little too closely. "I'd be very upset if there weren't beans."

"Jess?" Because she sort of felt like she was going to explode if she didn't make some kind of passive-aggressive remark.

The boy hastily shifts his gaze to meet hers, with a full turn of his head and his eyebrows rose in a dumbfounded kind of way. "Yeah, Becs?"

Beca shakes her head, blinking frantically in a show to look confused. "Did you- did you not get my text?" With all eyes on her now- especially those big blue ones across from her, raking over her- it seemed like less of a good idea. Damn her pettiness. "I just..." She trailed off, clearing her throat. "I texted you earlier and you didn't answer. I was worried." Nice save.

A small noise leaves Jesse and he pats his pockets with his free hand, his brow furrowed. Benji is contetedly watching, oblivious to anything amiss, but as Beca locked with Chloe's eyes for a brief moment and she was met with a sense that she was being picked apart. Carefully. Despite the way that there was nothing wrong with her look, perhaps it had only softened a bit at the edges. "No, sorry Becs," Jesse murmurs, raising his eyes to meet hers again. "I must've left it back at the dorm." And he's doing that timid little grin again, the kind that a kid wears when he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

She didn't think he was lying, because he _did_ in fact have a bad habit of leaving his phone on his desk when he left. Beca couldn't begin to count the number of times that came as an inconvenience, but she'd never cared- never been bothered by his lack of answering on any level deeper than annoyance. She knew the look was borne from being caught not texting her, or showing up to the party, or really making any contact with her. Which again- _fine_ , she asked for space- but this was not satisfying. "What if you had like, run into Arnold Schwarzenegger and not us?" She quips instead, choking back her irritation. "How would you have proof if you had no phone to take a picture?"

"Nice one, Beca," Benji scoffs playfully, using his free hand to jut a thumb at himself. "But I have my phone, so."

"You're lucky Benji could save your ass," Chloe laughs after a moment, leaving Beca to return to her soup, relieved. "Beca's right; if there's no photo evidence, did it really happen, you know?"

They hover for a few more minutes of small talk. During that time, Beca finishes her soup and uses the opportunity to get up to return the bowl to the girl at the counter and use the restroom. When she comes back out, Jesse and Benji say a polite goodbye, and Beca goes back to her seat. Chloe was already standing, as well, gathering her almost empty bottle in one hand and stating that it was time that they should probably get going, too. Not before tipping the girl at the counter though. And then they're leaving the cafe, the night air was chilly, and she immediately feels for Chloe who was still wearing minimal in her workout gear.

Seeing Jesse had drained her again. Which, she hated to admit to herself but it had- any of the energy she'd managed to reboot back up during her time with Chloe had been sucked right back out of her, and she felt like she was toeing the line of sulking a little bit too closely again. The silence as they began to walk was comfortable, and the soup in her gut kept her warm, despite the fact that it was churning.

He'd been so... stand-offish. Beca probably wasn't much better, sure, but that wasn't a side to Jesse that she was used to seeing. Not since he basically told her to get her shit together back in freshman year. And it had worked then, because he could push her in the right direction; hell, because of it she'd even gone to her _dad,_ which had helped. This time? She doubts that would be the case.

Chloe interrupts her trip down memory lane, though, when a gentle hand prods at her wrist, flipping it over and interlocking their fingers together. "Come on," She says, leaning into Beca's side with a heavy sigh. "Let's speed-walk. I'm freezing."


	8. Chapter 8

**So. This was a bitch, for some reason. Thanks always for the response guys! The kiss... it's coming, I promise ;)  
**

* * *

It's not as if Chloe Beale flirting is something new for Beca to deal with. Half of the time, Beca suspects that it's unintentional; a reflex that happens so fast that maybe even Chloe doesn't know what she's doing before the words are coming out of her mouth, and she has no other option than to roll with them. It doesn't bother her anymore- wait, correction; _bother_ is a strong word. _Usually_ , it doesn't make her so flustered that she goes into a full-body flush, not anymore. When it happens, she can walk right over it most of the time with a sarcastic roll of the eyes, or depending on her mood and the off chance that she can come back with something quickly, she'll indulge the redhead. Sometimes, that's a bad idea.

Because Chloe can flirt and she can flirt well. She'd flattened Cynthia Rose more than once with nothing more than a wink and a coy smile, she'd discombobulated Jessica with a cheeky remark, and she'd sent Emily into a raging fit of giggles. Her only true rival might be Stacie, and while- _surprisingly_ \- Beca had never _actually_ seen the two of them get into a match trying to out-flirt one another, she's semi-certain that it would tear a hole into the fabric of the universe. So whenever Beca dares to match her, she, more often than not, is the one to end up in a casket six feet under the earth.

The days had come and gone. The anniversary of her mom's death was depressing, as it always was. Shiela sent her an awkward text asking if she wanted to come over for dinner- to which Beca responded _no,_ thank you. Her Aunt Joan sent her a weird, long, private Facebook message that was straining hard to be cheery, and non-formal. She asked how she was liking her classes. Asked if she was graduating soon. Said she ' _saw u and ur singing group on tv for the president. very proud but too bad about the circumstances. glad u are doing something that makes u happy_ ' which she squirmed at because, who said she was never doing something that made her happy before? The message ended with an, in her opinion, even stranger farewell that bidded that they hadn't forgotten about her.

She'd woken up early that day, before the sun, while Amy's off-key snoring still reverberated the room. Keeping her awake. Shifting, tossing, turning; balling herself up under the blankets until there was light on the other side and she heard Amy begin shuffling around the room, and then down the steps. And _then_ she'd fallen back to sleep; deciding she could miss her ten o'clock literature class, but not her twelve thirty business class; no matter how much she resented it. So, she wakes again, somewhere around ten, laying in her bed for a while and reading Aunt Joan's message, Shiela's text and- oh yeah, Jesse's too. They'd finally made up for the squabble, Beca swearing to herself that Jesse was worth the effort. So, he'd sent her a short but sweet good morning that ended with an offer to get coffee before her drives her to Residual Heat later, and Beca agreed, before building up the energy to toss her legs over the side of her bed and get up. Something amiss caught her eye as soon as she did, however. Because sitting by her laptop, was a mug that she didn't put there, and she knew Amy- although prone to leaving dishes lying around- couldn't have left this one because it was still steaming from the top. Furrowing her brow, Beca approached it; the scent striking her the nearer she got; sweet, but strong.

Tea. And it was sitting on a coaster that was plugged into the wall behind her desk, left on low. It was _not_ something that Beca owned, but she recognized it immediately as Chloe's; because she had gotten it for the girl for her birthday two years ago. She sort of grinned to herself, switched the coaster off, and wrapped both hands around the mug. She would usually take coffee over tea, but it wasn't in her nature to turn down a gift.

Bella practices continued. Beca, with the help of Chloe, had managed to nail down the choreography for the set she had created, which quickly brought a purpose to the time spent in the auditorium. And that made it easier to wrangle the girls. Even when, during one of their five minute breaks, Stacie had checked Twitter only to find the DSM frontrunner throwing down some cryptic tweets that sounded very Bella-aimed- which soon caused an estrogen filled riot. Amy had thrown a chair. Lilly, she's pretty sure, said something about ' _chloroform_ ' and ' _basement_ ', and even Chloe had visibly bristled before calming herself in order to aid Beca's vain attempt at toning down the theatrics of the other Bellas.

All in all, things proceeded, for the most part, as usual. Which is why Beca doesn't find it odd that it's Halloween evening, and Stacie is sitting cross-legged on the couch, clad in a startlingly _not-sexy-but-sexy-by-default-because-Stacie_ Frankenstein's bride costume, and constraining Beca to the floor in front of her, hands nimbly navigating her hair. It's not odd that she had been forced by the collective group of women around her- minus Cynthia Rose and Ashley, the only two not dressed to maximum costumed extravagance- to put on some kind of outfit. It's not odd that she had no outfit, which of course lead them to improvise with leftovers from their own Halloween's passed closets; throwing her together in an attire that looked like she was meant to be coming from Wonderland, and so that's what they had dubbed her as. _Alice._ Wearing some kooky, weird dress thing that she hated, stripey stockings- the whole nine yards, and every yard she had passed, she had complained. To no use. It was mutiny. And it definitely isn't odd that they had of course claimed that the whole Bellas house was going to Benji's uncle's haunted house charity.

"I hate this." Beca declares for, what she suspects, might be the thirty-second time.

"Shush." Stacie tuts above her, "We're almost done."

They look like a bunch of idiots. Frankenstein's bride, Tweety (Jessica), a half-assed Sylvester (Ashley), a mime (Flo), whatever the hell Lilly was, what she can only believe was supposed to be a race car driver (Cynthia Rose), an alien (Emily), and both Chloe and Fat Amy had yet to emerge from their bedrooms. And then there was her own mess of an outfit that actually made her yearn for last years simpler, slightly more glittery time of being forced into vampire fangs.

"Remind me again why I have to go?" It's open-ended, and although she's looking at Emily- or Emily's bobbing space antennas- it's Stacie once again who responds.

"Because it's for a good cause?"

" _And_ ," Cynthia Rose tacks on, before Beca has a chance to rebuke. The woman leans forward from her spot in the armchair, "Chloe's wrath might be worse than whatever is in that house." She purses her lips, shifting her gaze from the Beca to other women in the room, admitting warily, "She threatened _me_ with the rolling pin."

Not a far stretch, not with Chloe's persistence, Beca can grant. Emily, who was perched daintily on the edge of the coffee table, blinks at that for a few moments, as though trying to decipher if it was a joke or if it was legitimate sentiment. Those who live in the house don't bat an eye. "And, because," The girl shrugs as she speaks, but the shy, baffled smile on her face quickly grows broad. "it's like your last year here! My mom always said she wished she could go back and make even more memories."

It strikes Beca then, that the girl has a point. She's moaning and complaining, but at the end of the day, she should just take it with gratitude that she has the opportunity to spend more time with these weirdos. No matter how much the impending haunted house tour was making her want to hole herself up in her closet with her laptop and a bag of chips.

Stomping on the staircase saves Beca with having to come up with some kind of response, however, as the redhaired girl skips herself merrily down the steps with that trademarked spring in her step and Beale smile on her face. This time, however, she was missing a blue eye behind the fabric of an eye-patch, and she was garbed in pirate-related gear that consisted of an actual hat with a huge feather in it, and a faux parot on her shoulder. Beca wasn't sure if she wanted to throw her head back in defeat or amusement- but did neither, due to Stacie's hands still being tangled in her hair, working her locks into some kind of fancy-braid.

"Becs!" Chloe gasps, teeth peeking out from behind lips as she makes her way off of the bottom step. A few of the girls compliment her outfit as she passes, and she responds with ' _thank you's_ ' all around before navigating her way through the living room furniture and coming to sit on the table next to Emily. "Look at you!"

The telltale warmth hits her ears at even the mere thought of looking at herself again, and she smiles sardonically in response. Beca could only _hope_ she could convey the amount of sheer displeasure she was feeling, and direct it straight at Chloe. Who was, ultimately, responsible for this. Behind her, Stacie pats Beca's head and announces that she's done with the hair, and Beca automatically shuffles a bit to the side to put some more distances between herself and everyone else. "Yeah." She mutters dryly. "Don't remind me."

Chloe straightens her back, her visible eye raking up and down Beca's attire. "I love it. But what are you?"

"You tell me." She responds, scowling at the tights and picking at a loose thread.

"We're calling her Alice." Jessica elaborates, smoothing the feathers on her weird, long, yellow shirt-dress amalgam that made up half of her outfit. Personally, though, Beca's favourite part was the bright orange leggings. "We had to throw together the outfits with leftovers."

Chloe visibly brightens at that. "I see- does anyone have a top hat, I think that would really complete-"

"Alright, you aca-bitches." Thankfully, Chloe's thought is cut off by the twangy sound of Amy's announcement from the top of the stairs, the footfalls of her descent following a moment after. "You know I'm not one for purposefully upstaging anyone," Beca meets Chloe's skeptical eye, and presses her lips together to keep herself from grinning. "But I'm about to blow all of your sorry costumes out of the water."

And blow them out of the water it did, indeed.

The second Beca catches sight of Amy, she doesn't bother to restrain herself and she lets out something between a whimper and a groan, throwing her head back against the couch behind her and shutting her eyes. Tight. Counting to ten very slowly to keep herself from having a meltdown at the thought of them going anywhere.

The other girl's looks were something of equal parts awe and hesitation; Amy's outfit was kind of overbearing to the senses. Amass with lots of glitter, body-paint, and a shiny body suit and boots that rose above her knees.

"I'm Lady Gaga!" The Tasmanian announces, after a few too many long moments of silence.

"I can't believe," Beca mutters, only now opening her eyes and allowing her head to drop back down to her chest. "I have to be seen in public with all of you."

* * *

Benji's uncle's haunted house was held in Atlanta, at some building that looked like it should be under demolition by the city, and Beca can't tell if that was part of the Halloween ambiance, or if it was really just that ram-shackle. Because of the journey that had to be made, she was stuck piling Chloe into her passenger seat, with Lilly, Jessica and Amy stuffed in the back. Stacie had towed along Flo, Cynthia Rose, Ashley and Emily. She was praying they weren't going to get pulled over, because her car was actually only designed to have a maximum of four people, and therefore Jessica wasn't actually wearing a seatbelt, but they made it without a hitch. Chloe had been assigned with the task of leading them to the address via her cellphone, and Beca had warned her several times that if they get lost, she's just going to turn the car around. To her great unhappiness, that didn't happen. Chloe was able to very efficiently deliver road instructions, and it's almost five thirty when Beca's car pulls up in the parking lot across the street. There's a lineup outside she can see, and when they approach, she's almost relieved to see Benji on the other side of the ticket booth.

"Bellas!" He greets, that dorky grin on his face- but _as if_ Beca can't notice the way his eyes are catching hold of Emily more than they are anyone else. She smirks. "I'm glad you could all make it!"

"This looks _awesome_ , Benji!" Chloe gushes, her single visible eye twinkling as she takes in the decorations. Beca, on the other hand, warily shifts her gaze from the drooping wood above her head, to the shuttering window next to the booth. Leaning to the right, Beca squints down the corridor past the booth; through the open door, that only offers a dark hallway and Beca is like, nintey percent sure she sees a figure skitter door to door somewhere down the hall, and she shudders. Suddenly full of such a passionate discontentment that she groans, leaning into the redhaired girl, who Beca only vaguely knows was still talking to Benji.

"Chloe," Her voice is a high-pitched whine as Chloe sways under the sudden weight of Beca's body pressing into her side. "I want to sit this out."

"Becs," The girl turns, bracing both of her hands against Beca's shoulder and holding her at arms length. Her brow dips inwards reprovingly, her lips pursed. Beca levels her with a glare that she knows is maybe pitiful, at best, because something tells her that Chloe would probably drag Beca's unconscious body with her through the haunted house if she needed to. "You can hold my hand if you get scared."

And her mouth flounders for a moment, indignant. Benji uses this pause in conversation as a way back in. "So, it's um, it's five bucks a ticket," Chloe's attention completely diverts again, back to the caped boy in the booth. "We do groups of five at a time. You guys probably won't get in for another half an hour, or something. We have popcorn?"

Beca groans again. Chloe manages to convince her to cough up a bill while Amy is pouring out the five dollars in change.

"Are you going to wear that thing in there?" Beca desperately hopes her nervousness isn't as apparent as she feels. She may have made the mistake to express her regret about not attending the haunted house she'd come across at the carnival when she was fifteen; but little did the girl know that that haunted house looked like it was hardly legitimate, and that she maybe only felt that way because she had experienced a rare burst of bravery, only to be trumped by the bored woman manning the thing scowling down at her and refusing to believe she was over the age of thirteen. That, of course, had worked Beca up and it had been one of the first things that made her discovery of eyeliner so much greater. Because she'd always looked younger than she was, but once she applied a heaping amount she sort of passed as her appropriate age.

Chloe blinks, before raising one hand up to her eye-patch and smirking. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well," Beca deadpans, resisting the urge to prod at the fake parot on her shoulder. "I mean, wandering in the dark, with scary things, who knows what- and you want to _inhibit_ your sight?"

Chloe's eye narrows, and she straightens her back, cockily resting one hand against her hip as she announces, "I have a sword."

And Beca really doesn't know what else she's supposed to say about that, so she walks away from that overconfident smirk and hides herself in the dark overhang, far from the shuttering window. Pulling the cellphone and the ticket from her back pocket, she shoves the ticket back and unlocks the screen, opening her messages with Jesse just for something to do. She knows that the guy had come and showed his support earlier in the day, along with a few of the other Trebles.

 _Waiting outside the haunted house. I want to die._

 _its not so bad becaw. i want a copy of the pic though._

 _What?_

 _u will get sneak-attacked by a pic. pls buy me a copy so i can have it. idc how bad u will think it is._

Beca drops her gaze to take in the entirety of her outfit once again, and because she thinks she's exhausted the amount of groaning sounds she can make in a fifteen minute time-span, she sighs heavily. The Bellas have more or less congregated in one big group, but when she sees Jessica and Ashley huddling together, she's suddenly acutely aware of the fact that Benji said there were only five allowed in at a time, and she's struck with the idea of being caught in the group without Chloe. And while she could be chicken with Chloe, somehow it sounds a lot worse to be chicken without the girl- and it's enough to cause her to detach herself from the wall like a barnacle and sift through the crowd until she's at the girl's side again.

"This will be good." Chloe hums as Beca approaches, offering a warm smile and a bag of cheap popcorn, which Beca declines. As the minutes pass on, Beca can't help but feel more and more like it will _not_ be good, and she's trying really hard to keep it together, but when Benji is ushering them through, she's clutching Chloe's hand tight enough to end circulation but Chloe doesn't mind. She's looking a little bit smug as they're being instructed to head down the hallway where Beca is certain she saw someone darting around, Lilly in front of them, Cynthia Rose and Emily behind them.

She can only thank God so many times that she's never been one of those people who are inexplicably terrified of clowns, or else she thinks she might have thrown in the towel right then and there when the guide comes out of one of the dark side rooms in some twisted Pennywise-type attire. He goes over the motions of the whole ' _nothing in here can touch you and you can't touch it either_ ' thing, and then ' _if you get lost or separated just keep going_ ', and also ' _don't be alarmed if you do get lost because that's kind of the point_ '. Chloe glances at Beca over her shoulder, and gives the hand within her own a reassuring squeeze, silently communicating the fact that Beca doesn't need to worry about getting lost on her own. Which is nice, sort of. Relieving. She still subtly uses her middle finger to rub at the corner of her eye and Chloe is narrowing hers in return, pursing her lips and tugging Beca forward, who lurches with a small indignant peep that she quickly catches and shuts her mouth around.

The guide leaves them to navigate the house on their own. An immediate spike of apprehension sends her cortisol levels skyrocketing, and keeping her cool is now a conscious effort. She's glad that Lilly is leading the way though; she kind of thinks the girl doesn't have the capacity to be scared of anything, and that kind of calm is something she can at least try to leech off of.

The hallway extends further, with closed doors on either side, and it eventually opens up to a kitchen display. It's at least well-lit in there, with a bizarre kind of orange glow that gives the place a roasting meatlocker vibe; amplified by the fact that there are fake intestines and body-hunks being hung from the ceiling. She grimaces. Side-stepping a puddle of fake blood that dripped from the 'limbs' piled on the kitchen table.

"Scared?" Chloe whispers in her ear, not breaking the momentum as the group continued to shuffle forwards. And, actually, to Beca's extreme satisfaction, she can say that no, she isn't really. Now that they're in the light and looking at cheesy props, her anxiety had begun to subside.

"Nope." She feels her lips curl in a pompous little grin, easing up on Chloe's grip as the Bella-train started to round another corner, out of the kitchen. Beca watches as Lilly's body scoots around the corner, after she'd taken a pause to marvel at some painting of a lighthouse on the wall.

Chloe's eyebrows hike upwards. "No?" Beca shakes her head. She didn't exactly like the challenging tone in the redhead's voice, but she wasn't about to back down now. "Then what if I let go of-"

Suddenly, there's a _face_ in Beca's _face_ that's not Chloe's- nor is it Cythia Rose or Emily or even Lilly. Beca yelps, and so does Chloe; her eyes coming to adjust around the ghoulish person that had just burst from the painting. Half of the girl's upper body was extending from the hole in the wall, the shock slips her fingers from Chloe's, and she's jumping backwards to put some space between herself and the intruder. The girl has contacts that make almost the entirety of her eyes black, and sunken looking, and she's grinning like the Cheshire cat as she slips back into her hiding place; replacing the hole with the lighthouse painting again.

Chloe looks just as startled, her mouth in a small, surprised 'o', but she's quick to recover. Beca's eyes dart to the girls around her; Cynthia Rose was holding Emily, she looked like she'd just had a near death experience, but the younger girl is grinning manically. Lilly is just looking at them expectantly from further down the hall.

Chloe clears her throat, regaining movement in her legs as she chuckles a quiet. "You were saying?"

And Beca wants to hold her ground. Declare that she's still not afraid. But, this next hallway was just getting darker again, and Lilly's figure was quickly being consumed by the blackness. It urges her forwards, despite the way her heart was thumping so loud she could hear it roaring in her ears. She wrings her hands together, just to have something to do, and offers a weak glower in Chloe's direction as a response. She's careful to eye the next painting they cross; sticking with a sea theme, a big sailing ship. Nothing happens, and she allows herself to release the breath she'd been holding. When she looks back, she sees Chloe lifting the eyepatch off of her eye, and Beca smirks. The girl returns a sheepish smile and a shrug, hurrying her pace a few steps so that she was directly behind Beca.

"Look who's scared now?"

"I-"

Another chorus of screams- including Chloe's, and even Beca lets out some kind of noise of surprise- breaks through the air as the painting rips down and the girl is instead flinging herself out at Emily, who had been scurrying to keep up with Chloe. As if by some reflex, Cynthia Rose is wrapping her arms around the younger girl's waist and lifting her off of the ground and away from the assailant. Still screaming though. Chloe, after attaching herself to Beca's side, stomps her foot and balls her fist against her mouth. She's making some kind of half-whine, half-laughter noise, hopping from side to side like her feet were on fire, trying to keep the train of expletives from barrelling out of her mouth. It's not until the girl has slunk back into the wall, that Beca moves her eyes and returns her attention back to the hall in front of them. Except, there was no one there.

"Guys?" She squints into the darkness, just to be sure. "We've lost Lilly."

Chloe lets out one long, steadied breath, and steps forward. "The show must go on." As she whisks past Beca, though, she's outstretching both arms and using them as a guide as she delves into the blackness. Beca can hear Emily giggling nervously behind her, but before she can lose another Bella to the shadows, she sort of kicks herself and gets going, keeping a firm eye on the woman in front of her.

The hallway comes to a stop, something that's evident when the redhead's outstretched hands fumble along a wall. By this end of the corridor, all light seems to have been leeched out of the space, and the gloom blanketed them so thickly that it was almost suffocating. Chloe turns- nearly bumping Beca with her ridiculous hat- but Beca can tell that she's blinking by the way the whites of her eyes were periodically disappearing. "There's a curtain here," One of her arms come up to gesture to her left. Beca can't really differentiate the two blacks, but she nods.

"Okay, well I guess that's where we go."

"Okay."

There's a beat.

"Are you going to go?"

Chloe shakes her head vehemently. "I'm not going first. You go."

Beca baulks. " _Dude,_ you're the one with the _sword_."

Chloe rolls her eyes. "Beca, I can't _strike_ anyone anyway."

"God!" Cynthia Rose's raspy voice interjects them, as the woman shoulders her way to the front of the line. "You two are arguing like a domestic old couple. I'll go."

Over the other woman's shoulder, Beca catches Chloe's eye and glares. She'd been giving Beca such a hard time about being ' _scared_ ' and here she was, absolutely no better. "You're all bark, no bite, Beale."

Even in the lowlight, she can see the way the girl swells with annoyance at that, before Cynthia Rose makes the dive and parts the curtains. Chloe follows, and so does Beca; after Emily warns her and plants a timid hand on her shoulder. This room was just as dark as the hallway; the only indication of any light coming as a very soft blue-grey at what appeared to be a staircase, and a red hue escaping from under a door next to it.

"Where do we go?" Emily whispers, and Beca feels her thigh bump into a table, or something, and she curses under her breath.

"I don't know." Cynthia Rose responds, from somewhere ahead of her. She can only just barely make out the other girls' silhouettes, and follows them blindly.

"Not upstairs." Beca warily navigates the room, just barely avoiding an armchair in the shadows. "There's no door out upstairs."

Chloe hums approvingly. "Good thinking, Becs."

As a train, they tiptoe towards the door. Cynthia Rose uses her index finger to prod at it, just to make sure they were able to go in, and the door swayed slightly. "Okay, y'all," The girl inhaled sharply, before planting the flat of her hand and pushing forwards. Emily's hand tightens over Beca's shoulder and she winces, but wouldn't berate the girl for rough-handling right now, under the circumstances. "This is a-" Scream.

"Jesus!" Beca exclaims, jumping backwards to avoid Cynthia Rose, who was backtracking quickly and nearly taking the whole damn train down with her. She understands a second later, though, when her body is being followed by another; wearing a bloody skin-mask and wielding- what Beca hopes is a fake- meat cleaver over his head and groaning like an animal. She hears Chloe scream. She hears herself scream. She _really_ hears Emily scream, somewhere close to her ear, before the hand on her shoulder is being relinquished and the tall girl is stumbling backwards. But the guy keeps on coming, and Beca scrambles to put some space between herself and him- who, she reminds herself hastily is just a _fucking actor_ but _oh my god_ he is scary and oh my god she is going to _kill_ Chloe if this guy doesn't do it first.

She bumps into Emily in her footing mix-up and instinctually spins to grab the girl and apologize, hang on to her to avoid getting lost. But when she turns, her face isn't meeting Emily's alien-clad clavicle, but instead she's coming into contact with a chest she quickly realizes is not one she's familiar with. That thought is solidified a micro-second later when that chest is vibrating with a low groan and there's another bloody face above her. She screams. Leaping, and really crashes into Emily this time, Beca feels her heart hammer against her ribs and her feet nearly come out under her. Because her scream had caused another chain-reaction of fear driven women running around in the dark like chickens with their heads cut off. Emily is taking off and squealing as Beca collides with her, and, dazed, she's spinning. Trying to figure out where the enemies are and where her allies are.

Emily is nearly running into meat-cleaver guy, and stumbling onto the stairs, where Cynthia Rose is busy hollering, and then he's following them. The guy she'd just bumped into is groaning and shuffling in her direction, and Beca can just make out Chloe scurrying into the red room. And she's totally not into getting separated from both groups, nor is she into going past meat-cleaver guy, or letting Chloe go off on her own. And that really leaves her with one option.

"Chloe!" She finds herself shouting, and yeah- her voice is shaking and her legs are sporadically carrying her to the doorway with so much adrenaline that she sort of crashes into the frame but her brain can't manage to get herself to care right now.

Chloe is standing with her hand to her chest, and Beca thinks she can see the regret manifesting behind those blues in the way her eyes are saucers and she's heaving a little bit. Beca can honestly say she probably looks the same. "Go, go, go, go," She doesn't take a moment to pause and think on it though. She's too worried about meat-cleaver guy coming back in. Chloe snaps into it and nods, reaching out to grip Beca's upper arm in one hand and then barrelling onwards, through the half-open door at the far side of this room that Beca could care less about taking in the ambiance of.

It's dark in this room again. Only with a few lights along the floor. Just enough for Beca to make out a crib resting diagonally against one of the corners of the room and children's toys, and she shivers. _Creepy_. Frantically, Chloe begins sweeping the room, towing Beca with her. Somewhere, she hears Cynthia Rose and Emily scream again, which does absolutely nothing to ease her nerves.

"I can't," Chloe starts, now making the third round of the room. "I can't see where we're supposed to go?"

Furrowing her brow, Beca shakes her head. "No, this has to be the way? We couldn't have missed somewhere?"

"Maybe we're supposed to go upstairs?"

"Fuck, Chlo."

Beca starts patting the walls tentatively, vainly hoping that she could find some kind of secret passage, which was ridiculous. She knew it was. But the idea of running from meat-cleaver guy was very unappealing to her and she was in denial that that could be a possibility.

But then she sees it. Near the crib, there was paint, barely visible in the lack of light, but it was red and it was an arrow that pointed at the wall. And where it pointed, there was a chest next to the crib that distracted from the hole along the floor- like a tunnel. "There!" She hisses, pointing. Chloe squints.

"That can't be it,"

It did seem strange. But, regardless, Beca drops to her knees and inspects it. At the other end; a light. She beams. "Yes, it is. Look."

Chloe mirrors her action, and Beca crawls towards the tunnel- the delight of figuring it out swelling somewhere inside her. Chloe could _suck it_. Beca turns to look over her shoulder, but her eyes meet a pair that were not Chloe's before she could make the fall turn. In the space between the crib and the wall, a figure curled up into a ball; staring at Beca over her knees. Beca stiffens.

" _Crawl!_ " She hisses, lunging forwards, and Beca yelps, but doesn't need to be told twice. She crawls like she's a ten month old in a baby race. And Chloe was losing.

It was clear, however, that this tunnel was actually some kind of hallway; it had just been covered up as part of the haunted house. Once Beca realizes that there's space over her head, she rises, using the moment to steady her breath, and Chloe quickly does the same.

"So much fun, Chlo." She says dryly. "Thank you, for this."

Chloe smiles. She laughs. Beca can't understand how she's possible of doing either. "No problem."

It takes navigating another room filled with hanging dead body dummies, and warily eyeing every picture on the wall Beca saw, and getting startled by a player-piano- before she finds her heartrate settling down again. They hadn't seen a living breathing human for like, two rooms now, but Beca wasn't letting her mind trick her into thinking she's safe just yet. The upbeat old-timey saloon music coming out of the piano wasn't anything to settle her unease, though.

"This has to be almost over, right?" Beca hisses into Chloe's ears, scooching around the piano, watching the keys drop to the tune of the 'ghost-player'. Chloe shrugs, and Beca groans, cautiously stepping towards another dark hallway. Somehow, after crawling through the tunnel, she'd managed to land the role of leading.

Taking a deep breath, Beca extends her arms as the prepares to enter the darkness of the next hallway. There were open doorways on either side, but none promised anything beyond them. Just a thick blackness. The space makes her hair stand on end, though.

A hand wraps around her upper arm and she shrieks, whirling around and sending a startled Chloe backwards. "Oh! Becs!" Her surprise is laced with giggles, and Beca doesn't stop to compose herself until she's out of the dark hallway, backtracking to the piano room. Chloe is looking at her with twinkling, impish blue eyes, and Beca glowers at her. If looks could kill, Chloe would currently be dangling off of the edge of a cliff, head turned towards the pointy rocks at the bottom. "I'm sorry," The girl giggles, "I didn't mean to frighten you- I just didn't want to get separated."

"On what planet, Chloe?" She barks, feeling the embarrassment creep it's way up her neck at being so spooked about nothing. Absently, she tries to compose herself by smoothing the front of the weird dress-thing out. "On what planet would you think that was a good idea?"

"I'm sorry." The girl repeats, her sheepish grin morphing into something devious the longer she looked at Beca, who was staring right back. The piano switched from one creepy song to the next. "Scaredy-cat."

"Me?" A lock of hair that must have come free from Stacie's braid during the many trials of the house drops in front of her face as she tilts her head forwards, incredulous. "Well then, you go first."

And Chloe can play big and tough as much as she wants, but as if Beca didn't notice the way her shoulders stiffen at the challenge. It makes her feel immensely self-satisfied, watching the brief moment of panic flash behind those blue eyes before the girl clenches her jaw, responding with a clipped 'fine' that Beca knows comes from a place of hesitation. Chloe moves past Beca, throwing her a look over her shoulder that she can't quite read, but it doesn't matter. Because Chloe is taking a deep breath and stepping forwards into the darkness before she can second guess herself. Beca is quick to follow- she considers torturing Chloe the same way, but decides against it, because that's probably exactly what Chloe expects her to do- keeping a close eye on her figure as she makes the conquest down the hall.

A loud bang explodes in her eardrums. It erupts around them only a moment before a grotesque figure pounces from one of the open doorways, swiping at Chloe. Who, in turn, makes some mutant hybrid-noise between a whine, a scream, and pained laughter as she ricochets into the wall behind her and then pushes into Beca, grabbing her as she retreats and squeals, once again, back into the piano room. And Beca's fulfillment at seeing the girl frazzled is enough to overpower her own fear; despite the way her heart was still thumping against her ribs.

Chloe, in her dismay, has her arms wrapped around Beca's shoulders and pressed tight against her body, instantly finding the wall on the other side of the piano room. Beca lets out an 'oof' as he back makes contact with the wall, and Chloe's boa constrictor grip has her laughter leaving her in breathless- however choked- bursts. "Not very fun, is it?" She doesn't bother trying to wriggle from the grasp, because with every breath, she can feel the redhead's body easing up.

Chloe puffs. She giggles. She leans back, lip snared between her teeth and she inhales sharply through her nose, before shaking her head. Just barely. Red locks had fallen in front of her face, and Beca finds herself reaching up to tuck them back behind her ears. The poor girl just had the bejesus scared out of her, so much that she seemed incapable of forming sentences. If her lack of retort was anything to go off of, that is. And either way, that's something new for Chloe.

Chloe's eyes shift, looking down at Beca from under dark lashes, and Beca swears, for a second, her eyes drop. Somewhere they maybe shouldn't. They flash back up in a second though, shades of blue meeting and it's only then that Beca realises that her hand is still frozen against the side of Chloe's head. Fingertips brushing her ear- even under that stupid, stupid hat- and she lets it drop, slowly, like it was filled with molasses. It finds Chloe's shoulder, the one not already occupied by a faux parrot, and through her haze, Beca isn't sure that's a safer place to land- because there it is again. Chloe's eyes flicker downwards, and Beca's like, seventy-five percent sure it happened this time. Because her eyes do the same automatically, and suddenly she can feel her heart thumping harder.

Chloe likes to flirt. This is not news.

But something about that look feels like it's a bit more than flirting, and Beca has to take a moment to let that register.

Screams cut through the tension in the air, and suddenly, all of Beca's senses are restored. She's aware of the piano playing again. She remembers where she is. She can recall that those other screams must be Cynthia Rose and Emily, and they must be nearby.

Chloe clears her throat and lets go of Beca, stepping out of the grip and sending her a smile, like nothing was amiss. Like Beca had just hallucinated that whole interaction. "That must be C and Emily."

Her breath gets stuck somewhere in her esophagus. She can still feel the ghost sensation of Chloe looking at her in that way, replaying the look over and over in her mind, trying to dissect it until it made sense. It didn't. She tries to respond in some way that didn't betray the momentary short-circuit in her brain, but the croak that precedes her weak 'must be' probably does that anyway.

As if on cue, Cynthia Rose is bursting through the doorway that linked the piano room to the dead-body room, Emily close on her heels. The girl just about yelps as she sees them, hand flying to her chest, trying to keep her heart from bursting out of her body. "Y'all bitches aren't out of here yet?" In unison, the two of them shakes their head. Cynthia Rose huffs and bowls past. "Well, let's get a move on."

She makes a beeline for the doorway, Emily quick to follow, and Beca smirks at the redhead next to her. But she inches her feet onwards, Cynthia Rose and Emily's panicked cry ring out a few seconds later, after the loud bang- and she can see Emily stumble back before Cynthia Rose declares something indiscernable and continues to charge forwards. Beca wastes no more time standing there, and follows the girl's lead, as well.

She screams a word that would have her mother scorning her when the figure makes another round to burst out at her, but barrels past him; focusing on keeping Emily's back in her line of sight as Cynthia Rose leads them into another room. There are a lot of candles. Or, fake candles, she thinks, but can't be sure. Behind her, Chloe squeals, and scurries around Beca. The girl's reaction to something sends a white hot burst of panic through her and she jumps forwards too, "What?" She asks breathlessly, trying to get ahold on Chloe, who just yelps in return, "He's following us!"

Beca feels something in her stomach drop and she doesn't bother looking over her shoulder to confirm Chloe's statement. Her feet just stumble forwards and she's pressing into Chloe, who in turn, is nudging Emily, who is gripping Cynthia Rose for life. "What the hell?" The girl at the front of the line hollers, "If I can't-"

A bright light. Beca winces, and she can hear Chloe's peep of surprise mingle with Cynthia Rose's indignant cry and Emily's shocked squeak. The moment it occurs, she can feel Chloe's hand grip at her- along with some other part she assumes might be a leg- and Beca is being knocked slightly off kilter. It's over as fast as it appears, and Beca's blinks for a dazed moment, Chloe's hand on her shoulder quickly righting Beca back before she can tumble. In her fragmented mind, she can piece together that bit of info after only a moment's paralysis. That must be the photo.

The gaggle all but tumbles into the next room- giving them one last jump scare, before the next door they press into leads them outside, back into the world, and Beca can breathe again.

The first thing she does is turn to Chloe and beat her tiny little fists into the girls shoulders. "I am never letting you pick anything we do ever again!" She pants between batterings and Chloe is squealing, struggling to catch Beca's fists in her hands. Once she does, she wraps her hands around the fists and holds them in the air between them, snaring her bottom lip between her teeth with a subdued grin.

"You didn't have a good time?"

Now that she's out of harms way in form of the haunted house, she can turn her full attention to the redhaired girl in front of her, in the form of the dirtiest look possible. "No." She half-heartedly tries to tug her limbs back to herself, but Chloe doesn't relent. One single brow just dips downwards reproachfully. "You're lucky I didn't have a coronary in there. Otherwise," She tries pointing one finger at the girl, but Chloe's hands atop of hers restrict that movement, "I would come back and haunt you."

Chloe inclines her head thoughtfully to the side. "Oh, enough of that." She tuts, only letting go of Beca's hands once she's certain that the onslaught won't continue. "You finally went in a haunted house! Now, let's go look at that picture." Moodily, Beca harrumphs in response, retracting her hands back into herself.

* * *

The last real Halloween Beca had had- as in, one that she counts because she wasn't brooding and was actually having a good time- was probably when she was eleven. For some reason, the memory of her, hanging around the neighbourhood with the few middle school friends she had, was clean and crisp in her mind. They'd tried trick or treating, but most of the houses in the neighbourhood wouldn't spare them much thought; instead wishing to save their candy for the ' _younger kids_ '. But a few select old people and generous parents had given them chocolate bars to add to their candy stock, and they'd gone to the park to indulge afterwards. Beca might have been dressed up. She can't quite remember that part. What she can remember, is sitting on top of the plastic tunnel, legs dangling over the edge while the others giggled in the tunnel and played truth or dare. A game that Beca had never been fond of; for her lack of willingness to admit the vulnerabilities or secrets, or really, anything personal- and her equally reluctant nature in taking any kind of risk.

She wasn't having a bad time though. She was eating a- full length, bless- Milky Way bar and peeking at the three other girls through the melted hole in the top of the tunnel; burnt away by pyromaniac teenagers that probably went there to get high. But it was a moment in time where she came to the quiet, but no less powerful revelation that she wasn't the type of girl meant for all of this... _yammering._ She couldn't understand it. She was perfectly content sitting certain droning activities out, she felt that there was nothing she could really gain from them. And there was nothing wrong with her middle school friends; sure, she didn't carry on friendships with them after the eighth grade, but they sufficed for friends back then. They were alright with letting her sit things out, and they didn't bother her that much.

And _of course_ the Bellas had _always_ done something during Halloween; barely rekindling that old flame of spirit within her, but this feels different. She can't help but wonder if it feels this way because of the heavy weight that settles in her, knowing that _this is it._ Last year, she could think about the next Halloween and know that Chloe would be dragging her to pick out pumpkins or that she could only _dream_ about _not_ being forced to watch at least one horror movie. This time, when Beca thinks about a jump in the year ahead; it's a vast, open-ended black plain of nothingness. No concrete plan. No one thing she could at least count on.

"We look like a scene from Scooby Doo." And even though she's still on the come-down of terror induced irritation, she gets a warm feeling when she looks at the picture. Because _this is it._ This is them.

And they do, in fact, look horrified. Cynthia Rose is mid-scream, and so is Emily; who is also white-knuckling the other woman's shirt, her alien antennas a blur of motion. And there's Chloe's hand on Beca's shoulder, something she remembers feeling, along with one leg awkwardly tangling in her own. And- Beca's favourite part of the image- the girl's other hand is gripped around her sword, facing the flash with wide, terrified eyes. A sight that had Beca unable to even think about reigning in her giggles and a thrilled "what- when did you, when did you have your sword out?" ( _"There, Becs! Obviously!_ "). Beca, on the other hand, is just as bug-eyed and alarmed looking. They look like a bunch of dweebs, but she remembers and relents to buying a copy for herself and Jesse, but only because he'd asked. Of course, every other girl in the image buys a copy, and so do some of the girls who weren't even on the trek with them, before embarking on their own trip through the house.

Oh, and Lilly, there was a single photo of her, but the only visible part of her was her eyes and the top of her head, because she appeared to be scaling the floor to get through the house. And of course, she was outside long before they were. Something that had scared Beca almost as much as the house had- but she's actually pretty sure that Lilly is one of those people who aren't able to feel any sort of fear.

"Who am I?" Chloe asks cheekily, bumping her shoulder into Beca's, but not lifting her eyes from her copy of the photo. "Daphne? I have the hair."

After a moment of mulling the workings of her mind for an answer; preferably something witty or maybe some kind of back-handed compliment, she comes up short. So, naturally, she changes the topic. "Sure, Daphne. But I'm starting to second-guess going to your Uncle's dinner thing tomorrow."

The girl looks up now, eyes sparkling with concern. "What, why?"

Beca has to press her lips together to smother the smile that threatens to break across her face; Chloe clearly not quite catching the joking tone she was going for. "Well," She drawls, averting her eyes from Chloe's because she's sure that those blues would make her cave, and she doesn't want to do that when there's such a good opportunity for milking this. She slides the copy of the image she's holding in her hands back into the envelope alongside Jesse's copy, running her tongue along her teeth before braving Chloe's gaze again. It's disheartened, like a sad puppy, but Beca powers on. She holds up her index finger. "One; I no longer trust anything you wish to do," Chloe's expression drops into an unimpressed glower, realising that Beca was just being a shit-head. She holds up another finger. "two; for all I know it's another haunted house. And, three," another finger, "I'm beginning to think you might _actually_ want to kill me? I mean, you do threaten me a lot."

The girl sighs, reaching out to lower Beca's offending hand- and fingers- from her line of sight. "Well, you keep giving me reasons to threaten you."

Beca feels the corners of her lips twitch, her aloof composure stuttering. She wishes she had a water bottle or something she could use to choke back the grin. "I'm flattered."

Chloe's eyes are unwavering and still look like they were trying to dissect her. At that, Beca's smile erupts.

* * *

After the second group of Bellas run screaming from the exit, and Beca's purchase of their group photo, which was just as good as their own (Amy was mid-trip, to say the least), they were piling back into their designated vehicles and filing into a Chinese food restaurant. And, after that, it was Walmart to buy Halloween candy that was already on sale, and then- something she didn't, but should have, seen coming.

Trick or treating.

Beca furrows her brow. "What?"

"I'll pretend I'm a large toddler," Amy volunteers, stepping forwards and raising the hand that wasn't cradling the box of mini assorted chocolate bars against her side.

Grimacing, Beca drops her eyes and takes in the girl's outfit once again. "Yeah, I don't think that's going to fly."

"I'm totally into trick or treating." Chloe agrees from her spot sitting atop of the trunk of Stacie's car. They're still in the Walmart parking lot, fresh from their raid of junk food, and Beca is secretly thinking that even a group of third grade kids would be easier to wrangle than this bunch. At least her ' _adultness'_ would be scary, so that when she said ' _no_ ' loudly enough they'd all oblige after a few minutes of whining. And here, she is the shortest one and therefore- even though she's co-captain- immediately on the bottom of the pyramid. "The night is still young."

Stacie hums in the affirmative, distractedly adjusting the bust on her Frankenstein's bride dress. "I don't think I've gone trick or treating since I was fourteen. That'd be awesome."

"In my home country," Flo starts, unnecessarily, while nodding slowly a few times. "my mother used to make candy skulls for my brother and I in celebration for the Day of the Dead festival."

Beca waits expectantly for the absurd turn in the story. It was incredibly normal in comparison to the Guatemalan's usual tidbits. When nothing comes, however, she clears her throat and turns back to face the rest of the group. "You guys seriously want to try trick or treating?"

There's a collective murmur of people saying yes, and Beca dips her head towards the sky. Chloe shrugs, pressing her palms against the car and gracefully pushing herself off. "We're all dressed up, anyway. It'd be a shame to let all of that go to waste."

The redhaired girl bumps a hip against Stacie's as she passes the girl, who was nodding her vehement praise. "Agreed. And if we aren't partying," The leggy brunette gestures to herself, "Then this girl is getting some candy."

Beca wants to point out that, actually, they had all just _bought_ a lot of candy. Candy _on sale_ at Walmart. But she knows that she was going to be overruled, any way she chose to argue.

And that's how they end up somehow with slightly more candy from the hour spent loping around a neighbourhood of choice. Beca would be lying if she said a lot of people were fans of their ' _go_ ' at trick or treating, and they'd received less dirty looks than regular ones. Beca didn't bother with the humiliation of going to doors, she watched and waited like the parent of the group at the end of all the driveways, and she snacked on the chocolates in Amy's assorted box. And then they were headed home, and Beca was relieved to finally strip off all of these ridiculous clothes. But not before pictures.

And then it's movies.

Or, a _singular_ movie because by the time they got home it was almost nine thirty and while they could stay up without her, Beca was going to bed. She had a class to skip and an awkward not-her-family dinner to attend.

Because of her less intricate costume, Beca was one of the first few to make it to the living room. Emily, Jessica, and Ashley were already taking claim on the couch, Cynthia Rose on the armchair with a bowl of super buttery popcorn, and Beca remembers the existence of the bean bag chair in the basement. She made her way to the top of the stairs, refusing to think about the spooky spectre in the basement and dove in before she could start, but, in all honesty, she ran up the stairs on the way back. Satisfied with her bravery, she slides it to the base of the armchair so that she can share the movie snack with CR. Most of the time, the idea of popcorn makes her nauseous after having to eat it so often with Jesse, but occasionally she works past that.

"What're we gonna watch, anyway?" Emily asks, leaning her whole upper body over the arm of the couch and extending an arm towards the bowl. Cynthia Rose meets her halfway.

"Don't know." The girl responds, shrugging and dunking her free hand in after Emily. "Why don't you pick, Legacy?"

And then the younger Bella is doing that smile, the one Beca can't help but smirk at. Where she smiles so exuberantly, with her whole face, like she's literally about to spill over she's so happy. "Really?" Her eyes flit from Bella to Bella, that smile uwavering.

"Yeah," Beca answers, sweeping her arm towards the communal movie stand. Maybe she'd pick one of the literal four- _four!_ \- copies of _Mean Girls_. "Go for it."

Emily bounds from her spot on the couch, bouncing over to the collection and promptly stopping at it's foot. As the girl hums and haws over the assemblage, Beca idly uses the opportunity to pull her phone out of her back pocket and respond to some meaningless text from Jesse. He's quick to reply. In her periphery, Beca can make out a whir of red hair and her mind just barely registers the sound of footfalls on the staircase, before she's being smushed into the depths of the bean bag, and she flails. She can hear laughter- feel Chloe's chest quaking with chuckles atop of her. The redhaired girl sits up, allowing Beca air before she can suffocate and the brunette- rightfully- gasps in a breath, and brings a peeved fist up to knock Chloe on the shoulder. The girl squeals, sliding off of the edge of the bean bag and landing on the floor with a small thud and a momentary cease in giggles as her backside makes an abrupt contact with the floor. But then she's laughing again. "Dude!" Beca huffs, dropping her phone onto the carpet. Chloe's eyes sparkle with all kinds of mischief. "Why?"

Chloe shrugs, leisurely dipping her hand into the popcorn bowl as Cynthia Rose lowers it in offering. She pops a few kernels into her mouth, lips curved slyly as she chews, levelling with Beca's glower. "Dunno." She says once her mouth is no longer full. "But in all seriousness, can we share the bean bag?" She tosses the rest of the popcorn into her mouth, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

One of Beca's hike towards her hairline, incredulous. "Maybe you should have asked before you threw yourself at me." Chloe rolls her eyes, and Beca shifts in the bean bag, purposefully trying to take up as much space as possible. "Maybe I would have said yes." At that, she looks away, turning her nose towards the ceiling to add an extra air of snobbery.

"And now you're going to say no?" Chloe challenges, and Beca doesn't give her the satisfaction of looking at her.

Beca hums for a moment before dipping her head back in Chloe's direction. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Wow." The older woman pushes herself up from the floor, sauntering over to cabinet under the DVD collection, pulling it open and collecting a bundle of blankets in her arms. Next to her, Emily pivots on heel and holds up a case of choosing.

"How's this? I've never seen it."

Chloe nudges the cabinet shut with her foot, peeking over her mass of comforters and pillows to look at the DVD of choice. She shrugs. "Put it on."

Emily mirrors the action, and then breaks into that ultra-delighted smile as she skips to the player. Chloe kneels back down next to the bean bag chair, tossing her arm's contents onto the floor, stretching out to layer them into one kind of bed.

Stacie- well, Stacie and her boobs- enter the room next; immediately spotting Chloe. " _Hey!_ " The taller girl pouts. "Blanket hog."

"Should've got here sooner, Stace." The girl replies coolly, fluffing a throw pillow and then tossing it onto the farside of the makeshift 'bed'.

Beca thinks now is a wonderful time to chime in with a simple, "she's got a point" that has Chloe throwing her daggers. "Well!" In her defense, Beca raises her hands. "How many is that- three? There's a community here, Chlo."

Emily bounds back to her spot on the couch, and Stacie scooches by the younger Bella to head towards the same cabinet of blankets Chloe had previously raided. The redhead cocks her head to the side, regarding Beca in the picture of complete innocence, the few free tresses of hair that had escaped her bun tumbling down the side of her face. "Oh, you mean like, share?"

Beca's shoulders drop. Exasperated, she sighs, running her hands along the side of the bean bag. "This is different."

Chloe's nose scrunches up. Beca can hear Cynthia Rose say something about needing more popcorn, and the lull of a few other separate conversations around her, but her real focus is on the girl in front of her. And the way she can just _feel_ she's going to lose this argument. Which is maybe something that requires some extra thought- kind of like, oh yeah, that's right; something else requires some extra thought, too. Beca can feel her mind slip away, transporting her for a moment back to the dark of the haunted house, and the way the other girl's eyes _may-or-may-not-have-but-she's-pretty-sure-they-did_ dropped towards her lips. The heaviness that had suddenly invaded the air between them. But that's like- a bizarro thought and as soon as the memory hits her she swipes it away just as fast. That's just too much to think about. "Is it?"

Blinking frantically, Beca draws her gaze away and nods her head, hands tapping on the fabric of the chair again. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

The other girl huffs disapprovingly, clutching the final blanket in her fists as she scoots upwards on the bed. "She preaches but she cannot abide." She proclaims solemnly, throwing a wicked little look Beca's way that has the brunette's ego suddenly swelling inside her chest. Her mouth flaps open indignantly, just trying to find the appropriate response, and Chloe adds in a stage-whisper to the other Bellas. "She's a _fraud_."

"Yeah, whatever, _Chloe_." It's the same tone high-school Beca would have used with her father for telling her that Facebook is full of perverts and kidnappers- for the fortieth time. "You're not exactly Mother Theresa over there harbouring all of those blankets."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Chloe's hand darts up to her chest, faux offended. Wide eyes seek those of the other Bellas around her, but they're still twinkling playfully. "When our captain herself is setting such a bad example?"

Glaring, Beca swivels her head to take in the expression of the other girl's; Stacie's got a little smirk on her face that looks distractingly like she knows something Beca doesn't, and Emily's nodding her head earnestly. "Is this- do you all wish bad things on me? Is that what this is? Is it ' _Team up on Beca night_ '?" She's not really that mad. But she's gotten pretty good at playing wounded over the years.

Stacie scoffs, green eyes rolling brazenly and flipping one of the few blankets left over her shoulder. "Oh, come on," The buxom girl strolls, quite leisurely, around Beca's chair before she slips down to curl up at the base of the couch. Beca's head revolves to keep the brunette in her line of sight. "You know pride's a sin, right Bec? And so's greed. Sharing is caring."

"So's lust." She shoots back, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at the other girl. Who, despite still smirking, bobs her head in one strong, purposeful nod before agreeing with a silent 'touche'.

"What's this about lust?" Amy appears on the staircase, having finally scrubbed away the many layers of glitter. "Are we talking about Stacie's sex-life again?"

"Kinda." The girl in question responds truthfully, pulling the blanket tighter around her before tipping her head at Beca. "But mostly we're scolding Beca on her inability to share."

" _And_ ," Beca chimes in again, wanting to pull the negative attention from herself. She diverts it. "How Chloe is totally hogging the blanket stash."

Amy drops her head back towards the ceiling with a groan. "Beca; _share_. Chloe; _share._ "

"I will when Beca does." Chloe responds stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest in a manner that reminds Beca so much of a petulant toddler, that it takes a great effort to keep her mouth twisted into a frown.

Amy's brow furrows. "What exactly is Beca supposed to be sharing?"

"The bean bag chair." Emily supplies, and Chloe nods her affirmation. Sighing, Beca shuts her eyes, bringing her hands up to her temples to rub in small, tight circles. The resign was here; she could feel it. Not that she wanted to back down, but the forming headache was quickly persuading her otherwise.

"Oh, Beca," Amy drawly, pulling the final blanket from the cabinet and levelling her with a stare reserved for first-graders. "Let Chloe up, there's no need for you to leave her out just because she's a ginger."

"There's no room!" Beca grumbles in a last ditch effort to deter Chloe- _everyone-_ from getting her to split the limited bean bag space.

Flatly, Amy responds to that with another intensified stare. "We all know there was room for Jack on that door on the _Titanic_ , Beca. Rose was just a selfish little hussy."

Unsure what to do with that comment, Beca relents, shuffling over to awkwardly make room for Chloe. There's actually a short round of applause as she does so, and she responds with a smile that's as wide as it is sarcastic, and the middle finger making rounds in the direction of every Bella. The redhaired girl throws a blanket over both of them, and she's smiling with all kinds of happiness mixed with, what Beca's sure, is a carefully administered amount of complacency. Beca makes sure to shove that finger right in her giddy little face and Chloe gasps through giggles. Cynthia Rose bends down to pick up one of Chloe's abandoned blankets from the bed. When Jessica requests the remaining blanket, Stacie leans forwards to fetch it, passing it to the blonde and the girl smiles her thanks.

"See?" Chloe prompts, "Blankets to go around now."

Beca hums non-communicatively, eyeing the girl unhappily before tucking that middle finger back into her hand, pulling the blanket closer to her. She mumbles 'whatever' into the fabric and stiffly rolls to her side, back facing Chloe, just as Flo and Lilly enter the room, and Emily navigates the DVD menu of whatever slasher film she's chosen.

She's not that mad.

She's actually quite happy.

A little bit of both at the scary parts.


	9. Chapter 9

**I am so sorry for the wait on this one. If I thought last chapter was the bitch- I was wrong. It was this one. I rewrote this entire chapter FOUR TIMES because it kept on wanting to take me in different directions I didn't really want to take it at the moment... If you know what I mean. And between moving, working full-time, and changing jobs, I haven't had a lot of time or energy to write. But here we are. Back on track. Sorry if this chapter is exceptionally weak but I promise, something very fun happens next chapter...**

* * *

Chloe's getting riled up. She's so, _so_ lucky Aubrey isn't here to inspect her because she could notice it in about one fifth of a second from a mile away. It would be their sophomore year all over again- with Tom.

When Chloe first met him, he had been in a relationship. Of course, she didn't pursue him as anything other than a friend, she wasn't interested in being any kind of homewrecker and her mother would probably beat her with a roll of newspaper if she ever found out Chloe was meddling where she shouldn't be. But, she'd be lying if she dared tell herself that she wasn't nursing feelings- _growing_ feelings- for him. She didn't act on them. Well, maybe she did, a little. But not in that way. By that point, she'd already figured out that bottling up feelings was _not_ something she was capable of if she wanted to keep herself from completely imploding, so Chloe, however inadvertently had begun to work out some other way to satisfy those little bursts of affection she'd feel for the guy whenever they hung out. They were in the same astronomy and intro to Russian Lit class, which gave them plenty of time to talk and ample opportunities to study together. Especially Russian Lit. He was really bad at it- not that Chloe was the same pro she is today, after taking it for six years- and that quickly became their biggest means of study sessions. Aubrey had taken the course that year, too. Naturally, she tagged along, and that's how she figured it out.

That's how she pointed it out.

And that's how Chloe began to notice it.

He'd say something so adorably dorky or sweet that she'd have to physically push his face away from her direction so that she could avoid grabbing him by his little cheeks and kissing him right there on the study table. Sometimes, he'd do so little such as give her that lopsided grin of his that would have her heart performing acrobatics inside her chest, and she'd resort to giving him a soft shove between the shoulder blades to urge him into the classroom quicker. Just so that she could feel the strong warmth of him under her hands. Any excuse to touch. But not anything tender, nothing that could get too intimate. Because Chloe could- _and would_ \- respect the fact that he was a taken guy and she holds human decency quite high on her list of morals. But it was like torture.

When Aubrey had confronted her after one of their study sessions, where they'd spent long hours cramming for the final exam, she had crossed her arms over her chest and scrutinized her with that- probably trademarked- Posen look. Like you're under a microscope.

"What?" Chloe had asked after a moment of returned, but increasingly confused, staring.

"You are totally crazy about Tom, aren't you?"

It was like Aubrey had just taken Chloe's world and unearthed her deepest sin from far below the dirt. Immediately, the air had whistled from her lungs, and she sort of shuffled on spot. "Oh," She breathed, the smile she paints against her mouth a moment later was very, very unconvincing. "What makes you think that?"

" _Chloe,"_ It's almost a whine, an exasperated one at that, as the blonde walked over that undignified attempt at a deflection. "Come on."

The footnote of that tone; _'don't lie to me_ '.

Buying time, Chloe shoulders the strap of her book bag. Eyes periodically searching for every far corner of the room before coming back to meet briefly with Aubrey's green ones. Had she known Beca then, she totally would have been pulling a _'Beca_ '. "Yeah, I like him." One shoulder twitches pathetically, some pursuit at nonchalance.

"Chloe," This time, it's firmer. "You know when people talk about how grade-school boys will be mean to girls on the playground?" Chloe's eyebrows knit together, not exactly grasping the point of that sentiment but she nods anyways. Upon seeing her confirmation, Aubrey bobs her head in return, wringing her hands out in front of her. "Okay, it's like watching that. Except _you're_ the little bully."

Provoked, Chloe had glowered. "I'm not a bully."

Aubrey rolled her eyes, and proceeded to explain (what Chloe already knew) how she has three younger siblings, so she knows how to spot when a kid is in ' _puppy-love',_ followed by her resolutely supportive-but-tenacious trip to the ice cream store. While there, Aubrey reminds her of the ' _noble ethics of womanhood_ '- Aubrey's words, not hers- in which pursuing a man in a relationship isn't classy. Chloe had groaned so loudly in the middle of the aisle that onlookers had eyed her questionably- because she _knew_ it was wrong and she had told herself that she wasn't pursuing him, because as far as she was concerned, she wasn't. It was just a problem that she had _feelings._ So _, sue_ her. But Aubrey was right, at the bottom of it. Chloe just didn't know how to shake feelings- still doesn't, not really- especially when she can't do anything to work through them. Completely unable to stop until the situation had been dealt with, and that just makes things more difficult when sometimes it's better to just leave well enough alone. She knew she couldn't talk to Tom about it because that could risk the termination of their friendship, which Chloe didn't want.

Of course, she was lucky when Tom had broken up with his girlfriend a few months later. And, at the start of her first junior year, they'd gotten together. She found it surprising that she managed to withold from actually getting physical with the guy for almost a month, but- that's beside the point. Later, she would confess the length of time she actually had an attraction to him, and he responded by laughing happily and engrossing her in a massive bear hug.

So, maybe it's just her bad token of fate that those she grows feelings for are always taken, or maybe she has some twisted deep running flaw of wanting things that aren't hers. Maybe it's an only child thing. But ever since Aubrey had pointed it out, Chloe started to notice. And much like the first time, to her frustration, she just can't frickin' stop.

Sometimes Beca just looks so cute and cuddle-able on a bean bag chair that she has to launch herself forwards and smother the girl to keep from planting one right on her in the middle of the Bellas living room. Things like that. Repeats of the Tom situation.

And Chloe knows she slipped up in the haunted house. Hearts were beating too fast and she was too shocked and terrified to think clearly. There, latched onto Beca, her mind had betrayed her with the thought of _'oh, how nice would it be to just be able to kiss Beca right now_?' and automatically, her eyes had followed through while she considered it for a little bit too long. And she knows Beca noticed. Maybe she didn't comprehend all the way, but Chloe knows that some part of her definitely observed the subtle signal, because of course Chloe saw the girl's own faint shifts. The way her eyes crinkled dubiously and the slight crease between her brows. Most importantly, the way her eyes then flickered downwards and made Chloe's stomach drop.

Because Chloe knows how to read these kinds of cues- she loves them, she lives for them- and that was very dangerous. Flirting is something she likes; the anticipation, the build-up, the way she could turn people's brains to mush with words and looks and she likes it even better when someone manages to do that to her.

With that one reciprocated glance, Beca Mitchell accomplished that task. Chloe almost made a very bad, very inappropriate, decision. The universe had her back though when it sent Cynthia Rose and Emily barging in, and she was silently thanking whoever up there was that was responsible for that. But she was still toeing that line too closely for her liking, let alone Mama Beale's if she ever had the inkling that her daughter was up to something.

* * *

"You're pretty quiet." Beca observes from her spot in the driver's seat, dark blue eyes darting to look at Chloe from their corners, before turning her attention back to the road. They'd only left the Bellas house about ten minutes ago, and Chloe had hardly said a word. She hadn't actually noticed. She'd been too busy thinking about that whole ordeal. "Everything alright over there?"

"Oh, sorry," She flashes Beca a wide grin, before gingerly opening the top of her travel mug, steam rising from the mouth of it. "I was just thinking about my Russian Lit assignment." That was actually, also _somewhat_ of a concern. But she wasn't losing sleep over it. She could probably actually do it in her sleep, she'd just been putting it off. Beca smirks.

"What, thinking of new, fresh ways to purposefully fail it?" In a moment of rare, dry sarcasm, Chloe nails her with a withering glare as she blows at the steam of the mug, bringing it carefully to her lips. Beca slows the car to a stop at a red light, glancing helplessly in the redhaired girl's direction. "You know I'm only joking."

"Of course." She doesn't break her gaze away from Beca as she carefully brings the mug to her lips. Beca reaches for her own travel mug- though she'd opted for coffee over tea- nestled in the cupholder between their two seats. Before sipping, the girl quickly checks the road again and when she sees that the red light remains, she steals a hasty guzzle.

The light turns as Beca's humming, putting the mug back down and carefully depressing the gas pedal. The remainder of the trip into Atlanta is spent singing, discussing celebrity gossip, and Beca's interestingly thorough knowledge of skin care routines. When questioned, persistently, she admitted to her bad acne problem that started somewhere in the sixth grade. She'd managed to perfect the art of natural cleansers by eighth grade, and Chloe was in awe. "Becs, I had awful acne until like, senior year. I couldn't figure out anything! Why didn't I know this?" Beca shrugs. Chloe told her that she's going to need to take notes on some of those skin tips.

"Chlo, you're skin is flawless now. You don't really need it."

Pressing her lips together, Chloe feels the pride swell in her chest. "Yeah," She says humbly, glancing at Beca as the girl makes a left turn. "I take my skin care pretty seriously. Hygiene is important."

She isn't sure how it's possible to totally know when someone is smiling- or smirking, in Beca's case- without actually being able to see their face, but Chloe knows that's what the other girl is doing. "I'm glad you think so."

The hotel room is pristine, and amazing- totally curtesy of her Uncle Brian- and Chloe's first instinct is to throw back the curtains to observe the view. The sudden flash of sunlight might momentarily blind Beca, by the way the immediate response is some kind of verbal wincing noise followed by a thud, and then Chloe's turning around to see the little brunette hopping around on one foot and cradling her opposite knee in both hands. Away from the television stand. Chloe pulls a face of remorse, and apologizes quickly, pulling the curtains back to their original, shadier positioning. Beca assures her that she's fine just as fast, taking a seat on the foot of one of the two double beds across from the television.

"What time does this," Beca clears her throat then, making vague, awkward gestures in the air with one hand. "thing start?"

Chloe sighs, waltzing away from the window and towards her discarded bag near the door. She could feel the tingle of excited nerves faintly in her stomach; it had been a long time since she's seen this side of the family. And she was excited for Beca, as well. Happy to have her here. Because, there was no one she'd rather have with her- except, well, she'd be just as happy with Aubrey, but the girl wasn't necessarily swimming in free time now that she has a lodge to run. So she was downright jazzed to be spending this kind of quality time with Beca. But it was almost too close to wanting to show her off. Chloe can already foresee herself gloating about the brunette to some estranged relatives. Probably only if Beca isn't around, to be merciful, because she hates attention on herself which means compliments make her blush, and she definitely proved to be belligerent if her father ever dared brag about his little girl in front of her, so. If the topic arises, she'll definitely praise Beca- passionately so if she isn't around to be embarrassed. "Dinner is at six thirty." Stooping down, Chloe scoops up the strap of her bag and treks back towards the unoccupied bed. "There will be some hoity-toity mingling before. I imagine that starts around five." She purses her lips, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. She'd talked to her dad on the phone a day or two before, and he had basically given her the low-down, and her Uncle Brian's number, if she needed it. But she couldn't recall if he had mentioned a time for the hall opening.

"There was an open bar, right?"

Chloe drops her head against her shoulder, narrowing her eyes censuringly. "Yes."

Beca smiles with all her teeth, the way that betrays her inelegant poise- especially when thinking about social encounters. "Great." She answers stiffly, knotting her fingers together in her lap. It's clear that her nervousness about being surrounded by Chloe's family was starting to eat at her, Chloe wagers another thirty to forty five seconds before she's absently performing some other tick. "I might need some of that."

It sort of warms her. Because Beca was still four-fifths _-I-couldn't-give-a-shit_ when it comes to meeting new people, or really making impressions of any sort, unless there's some small pressure of importance weighing on her. And granted by the way Beca was pointedly stiff next to her, there was some kind of knot of nerves sitting in the base of her gut. Beca wanted be of some positive influence. For that, Chloe could give her some slack- not that she would ever stop Beca Mitchell from alcohol, unless it was like, for her own safety or well-being, of course. Because it was cute. The amount she cared was cute, no matter how hard she's trying to come off cool and unaffected. "Have at 'er, Becs," She permits, and Beca lifts an eyebrow unexpectedly, as if this wasn't the response she had anticipated. "Just like, maybe don't be wasted before dinner. I'm not stopping you after though," She winks, nodding to herself. "You need some jiggle juice if you're going to be tearing up the D-Floor with me."

Dark blues roll in their sockets. "Right. Maybe I'll stay away, I don't want to make a _total_ ass of myself."

She contemplates making some kind of wise remark about what an ass Beca usually is anyway, but given the subtle sense of insecurity the girl had been giving off a moment ago, she decides against it. "So you're going to make _me_ look like the ass- some chump without a dance partner, is that it?"

Some smug, quirky little smirk is shadowing the other girl's lips, and she throws an askance look in Chloe's direction. "Oh please. You'd find a dancing partner no matter what- you'd probably even dance with old people." Chloe's mind wanders back to her cousin Tiffany's wedding a few years ago. She'd ended up dancing with the groom's grandmother and her fewof her old friends. They were an absolute riot. So, yeah, Beca has a point. Not that Chloe will let her know that, not when it is beside the point that Chloe wants to make.

"I can't bump and grind with the old folks, Beca. Totally inappropriate."

Beca's eyes bulge slightly. "You really think it would be appropriate to bump and grind at your Uncle's company dinner, either way?" She doesn't blink as she says it, gaze totally locked on Chloe's. And she feels her chest flutter fondly- the girl was so easily wound up. Sometimes it was too tempting to just keep winding until she eventually spins off, like one of those vintage toys.

"Um." Chloe presses her lips together, dragging out the sound a few moments longer, for dramatic effect. "It's not just a dinner. It's a party. And where there's a party," Beca groans, dropping backwards onto the mattress, the springs bouncing her for a moment. "there is bumpin' and grindin'."

It wasn't really in her plans to be bumping and grinding. Despite what some might think, Chloe has _some_ concept at boundaries, and what should and shouldn't be crossed and when. Shower incidents aside. She figures she ought to keep it pretty rated PG for a company dinner, it wasn't difficult to come to that conclusion. Not to mention, Aubrey would be rolling in her grave if she ever caught wind of such unwarranted behaviour at an event like this.

"You've been spending too much time with Stacie." Beca berates dryly, and Chloe laughs.

Dropping the bag against the foot of her bed, Chloe kneels down, unzipping it with one hand. "Has she corrupted me?"

"You used to be so sweet." The brown-haired girl flips herself gracelessly onto her stomach, sort of army crawling along the length of the bed and reaching for the television remote on the night stand between their beds. Chloe gives her a warning tut, but can feel the grin pulling itself across her face. Rummaging through the contents of her bag, searching for a comfortable pair of sweatpants to change into during their downtime in the hotel room, she notices the screen come to life in her periphery. "What would Aubrey say?" Beca sighs with a little bit more dramatic flair than necessary.

And it's spooky, given that Chloe had just thought about that. Furrowing her brow, she finds the fabric of the desired garment and balls her fists around it, removing it from the depths of her bag. "Probably that those actions were irredeemable and may have consequences that will haunt me for the remainder of all future family events." She recites without missing a beat. She's pretty confident that it would be along those lines. After all, Aubrey _had_ been present for the Beale St. Patricks Day celebration of _two-thousand-ten._ Chloe hasn't dared touch absinthe since. It's a gap, mostly, but Aubrey had filled her in more than enough.

There's a long silence, filled by Beca blinking slowly, perhaps sensing that there may be some story there, but Chloe doesn't bat an eye further. "Sounds like Aubrey." She finally responds, turning her attention back to the television and idly navigating the guide menu.

Chloe just nods, stuffing the clothes she'd pulled free from the bag back in half-heartedly, before getting back to her feet. And then she's- politely- moving into a corner of the room to begin unbuttoning her jeans. She could go to the washroom, but honestly, living in a house with eight other women and only three bathrooms had made that whole concept fruitless, at best. Beca's eyes only glue themselves with a slightly greater intensity to the television screen.

Stripping herself of the constricting fabric in favour of loose-fitting sweats, Chloe drops herself to the unoccupied bed, observing the way Beca was still channel surfing, without success.

"Ooh!" Chloe throws out a hand towards the television. " _Keeping Up With The Kardashians?_ "

The look of exasperated disgust Beca gives her suggests that Chloe might as well should have said that they should spend the afternoon watching a documentary on dung beetles. "Uh _\- no_?" Chloe shrugs.

They end up tuning to it anyway, and it's not long before the pair of them are dozing off into a quick power-nap.

* * *

When Beca makes a beeline for the bar on the far end of the hall, Chloe doesn't stop her. She's probably watched the poor girl go through the entire series of her nervous ticks on their way down; from the little wrist thing to pinching the skin on the back of her neck halfway through a tangent of shaky babble. The likes of which were even sporadic and- seemingly- _random._ She'd somehow ended up complaining about Jesse and his newest obsession with _Game of Thrones_ , and his insistence on calling her " _m'lady_ " or, at times, " _Khaleesi_ " which Beca didn't quite understand but Chloe assured her that she should be flattered. Beca had rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing that it would end badly for her the _second_ he rented the first season from the video store. Chloe was more curious how- and _where_ \- in the world Jesse had managed to come across a video store in this day and age.

She seems a little bit more at ease though, when she returns with a gin and tonic clutched in one hand and some fruity umbrella drink extended towards Chloe in the other. Meanwhile, Chloe had taken the liberty of tracking down her uncle in the masses and finding out which table was actually reserved for them. She's found him, being that the red hair- thinning as it may be- was a token Beale calling and easy to spot. However, currently he was chatting with some other man, so she stuck to the sidelines, waiting for a break in conversation to tactfully insert herself in. As the brunette approaches, she sort of ducks her head awkwardly and Chloe reaches for the offered drink in hand, flashing a warm smile at the girl. Absently watching the way a curled brown lock tumbles in front of Beca's face as she does so. Without thinking, she reaches forwards and brushes it back, securing it behind Beca's ear.

"Thanks, Becs." She plucks the little umbrella out of the blue cocktail, twirling it between her thumb and index finger. "What is it, anyway?"

Swirling the ice cubes around in her drink, Beca shrugs. "I don't actually know." Chloe tilts her head, raising the glass just below her nose and sniffing it tentatively at that admission. "I saw some girl before me order one so I just said, ' _hey, I'll take one of those too_ '." Chloe arches an eyebrow. There wasn't actually much of a smell to the drink, except perhaps that of raspberry.

"So this could be poison, for all I know." She accuses, prodding Beca with the miniature umbrella. The girl scoffs, tipping her own glass in Chloe's direction before raising it to her lips and sipping at it.

"I assume it's vodka." Her tongue pokes out for a moment, swiping it's way across her lower lip before she's fidgeting with the ice cubes again, swirling them. "But essentially it's all poison, anyway, so you aren't wrong." Chloe hums her agreement, repressing the urge to call Beca a smartass, and smothering it instead with bringing the glass to her lips. It's definitely vodka, but the taste of the alcohol is overpowered by that of the raspberry flavouring. Beca gestures towards the man behind Chloe from around her glass. "Is that your uncle?"

Checking on the situation, finding him still engaged in conversation, Chloe nods. "What gave him away? The red hair? Or was it the good looks?" Beca grunts some kind of noise between a snort and a chuckle.

"The red hair." Chloe pouts.

"Not the good looks?"

Beca's nose wrinkles in thought, perhaps a brief consideration- most likely not. "Nope." She pops her mouth around the ' _p_ ' and Chloe scowls.

"That's my uncle you're talking about." She reminds, snuffing down the urge to smile by bringing the drink to her lips and taking a long sip. Beca, entirely unaffected by the play at seriousness that Chloe was going for, cocks her head to the side once again.

"Oh, I know. That's exactly why I won't be commenting on any of his looks. Good or bad."

There's an eruption of laughter from behind her, and Chloe turns before she responds; catching the tail-end of the interaction between the unknown man and her uncle Brian. The older Beale was slapping his hand good-naturedly against the other man's shoulder, and bidding him farewell. Taking her chance while she had it, Chloe spins back around, capturing Beca's wrist in her free hand and towing her in the direction. Surprised, the smaller brunette nearly splutters around her drink. "Oh, Becs," She says through a sigh, gracefullly changing her positioning from gripping Beca's wrist to hooking an arm through the other girl's. "Beale's love flattery." She winks.

Before Beca can make any kind of retort to that, Chloe is approaching her uncle and he's widening big hazel eyes that Chloe has forgotten as recognition washes over him. "Oh my goodness!" He crows, observing his niece for a long moment. "Chloe!" Just as quickly, he enveloping her in a hug that's as tight as it is loving. Really, he wasn't making the point to Beca that not _all_ Beale's had little-to-no personal space understanding in the way he nearly bowls the small girl over on his way to engulf Chloe. "All the beauty of a young Olivia Newton-John!" He presses into her shoulder and she furrows her brows uncertainly, but is flattered all the same.

"Hi uncle Brian." The greeting is slightly muffled due to the amount of shoulder in proximity to her mouth. "It's good to see you again!"

"And you, sweetheart." He responds, breaking away abruptly and holding Chloe at an arm's length, all smiles. His eyes then dart over to Beca for the first time, and then back to Chloe. "And who's this?"

"Oh," Chloe's arms finds Beca again, gently tugging the girl closer into her side. "uncle Brian, this is my friend, Beca."

The girl in question does her wide, pressed, awkward smile again and it warms something in Chloe's chest. "Hi." She puffs after a moment, dark blue eyes darting to their sides to meet Chloe's, almost pleading, and then flitting back to the man just as quickly. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Beca!" He booms- Chloe is coming to find that this man is very loud, in both presence and volume- and he sort of claps Beca on the shoulder and the girl immediately stiffens. He doesn't seem to notice. But Chloe does. She probably would even if she didn't feel Beca's upper arm tense around her own. "You- you girls do some kind of music thing, is that right? Is that how you met?"

"Yes." Chloe jumps in, diverting the attention back on herself. "Yes, we do acapella singing. That's how we met." She beams at Beca, who's still smiling with all of her teeth, and then back at her uncle Brian. "We compete, we're three time champions at the ICCA's." He blinks in a way that betrays his complete, though politely veiled, bewilderment. As far as he knew, the ICCA's were a local competition in which four kooky groups of singing girls got together every year and competed for gift cards to Sephora. But that's alright, she supposed. Not everyone understands.

"That's wonderful!" He says after a moment, his smile dropping just a fraction, lack of genuine interest sapping some energy from him. After a few more minutes of polite small talk, Chloe has finished her drink, and in her periphery, she can see Beca's occasional fidgeting or swirling her glass or searching into far off corners of the room. Chloe's honestly not even that upset when he excuses himself to go speak with a prominent business partner, promising that they'll do " _some more catching up later_ ". Once he's out of earshot, she turns to Beca.

"Sorry about that." Her smile is crooked and apologetic, and Beca quickly shakes her head, raising one hand as though to ward off the sentiment.

"Don't be sorry. It's family time."

"Yeah, but," She trails off, eyes following the figure of her uncle through the crowd until he stops next to an Asian woman at the far end of the hall. "I don't remember him being so..." Once again the only appropriate word she can wrap her mind around is, " _loud_."

Beca rolls her eyes playfully, brushing her knuckles against the tip of her nose for a moment. "Last time you saw him, you were eight, Chlo." And then she's sipping at her gin again and gesturing towards Chloe's empty glass with a coy kind of grin. "Wow. Need another one of those?"

Sighing, she concedes after a moment that yeah, she kind of _would_ like another one. And she makes it last all the way through dinner, and speeches. Speeches in which she spent more time observing the patrons of the room; spotting another familiar face at her uncle Brian's table; being that of her cousin Chris, whom she might need to strike up a conversation with sometime later. She can't remember much about him, except that he would actually be Beca's age and he too, actually, was quite loud as a child. Chloe's also far too concerned with the way Beca's knee occasionally bumps against her own under the table, and when she needs to shuffle her chair even closer to Chloe's own to allow another speaker to the podium, their feet bump together and Chloe is at least seventy percent certain there was a miniscule static shock. She shoots Beca a whispered accusation over her shoulder, " _Are you trying to play sexy feet with me_?" Because, it's an opportunity she can't pass up, and then there's the blush. Starting on Beca's ears and slowly creeping to cover her cheeks. "Wha- no, what _? Sexy feet?_ " Chloe just smirks and plays up an unconvinced look from around her glass. And the girl seems to be taking her reservations on her own liqour, which could be a good thing, because she was a bit of a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but she buries herself in a quick guzzle as well. Aside from that, there was only the intermittent chuckle from Beca as she made some kind of remark regarding whatever was said on the stage. Whether it be an unwise usage of the term " _fisting_ " that was in truth a miscommunication about the action of a " _fist-bump_ ", or the dreadfully imbibed fellow who began babbling incoherently about... well, _something_. And then, after a while, there was the complaints from the girl about her concerns of when dinner was going to be served, followed by a well timed and very loud growl of her stomach. "See?" Beca bemoaned, frowning.

"Soon, Becs," She whispers in return, patting her hand against Beca's on the table. Beca groans.

Thankfully, she was right. Dinner was ready to be served not ten minutes later, and Chloe thinks Beca may have eaten her fill in what could have been record time. "You weren't kidding," She remarks, eyeing the empty plate in front of the brunette while she stabs at her pasta. Beca's hand falls to her stomach defensively.

"Did I sound like I was kidding?"

Once she'd finished up her own plate, and after an appropriate digestion period, it takes only two tries to get Beca onto the dancefloor. One that, granted, isn't that populated. And, _granted,_ the DJ's were catering more to the older bunch which meant there was a lot of music from the seventies to eighties. And, also, Beca had grumbled and ordered a shot at the bar for the two of them before she pouted onto the space.

They managed to make it through a Ramones song, a Rolling Stones song, and a KISS song, before they were halfway through David Bowie's _'Fame_ '- much to Chloe's delight- and Beca abruptly stops during her dorky kind of a _hop and bop_ dance. She holds up a finger, as though to ask Chloe to wait, and fishes around the back pocket of her jeans for a moment. Pulling out her phone, it's screen bright with an incoming call, she shouts over the music. "I'll be right back!" Chloe nods. She finishes the song on her own, and then heads back to the table.

Placing her hand against the thick satin of the table covering, she drums along to the beat of the next song playing, absently searching the room for something else, someone else to talk to while Beca was gone. Because she'd managed to glimpse Jesse's name on the screen before Beca had turned heel and excused herself from the hall.

Jealousy is not something she's plagued with regularly. So uncommonly, that it takes her a moment to reflect on the sticky feeling somewhere in her gut, and then she's catching on. Much to her irritation. It's not a conscious reaction, and she tries to smother it, nibbling her lower lip between her teeth and scanning the room with a bit more purpose. She knows that dwelling will do her no good, do nothing other than feed the monster rearing it's ugly head among the sidelines of her conscience.

It's not that she has anything against Jesse. Not at all, not even a little. She's met her fair share of the male species over her lifetime, and while she doesn't like to think that the majority of them aren't nice people- because she doesn't believe that, even if it seems that way sometimes- and Jesse, in her four year acquiantence with him, had never been anything but kind and goofy, and he treats Beca right. Even if she did get the occasional earful about an argument or annoyance with him from the girl. This feeling is simply an unwanted side effect to an -equal, but debatably unwanted- feeling for the girl that Chloe had been fostering over the years. And while she's not sure if human nature is simply hardwired to resent others who have things wanted by oneself, she finds jealousy unhealthy and petty. Thankfully, it seldom makes it's presence known in her, but when it does, she becomes agitated.

And so she can't sit here, idly humming along to Ratt's ' _Round and Round_ ' as she was, allowing that nasty little affliction to metastasize in the base of her belly. That's what pushes her to her feet, navigating the people and coming up to the bar, ordering herself a caesar, and getting back into the groove of things. Distraction is the basis of all ignorance, she supposes. She's felt the jealousy, acknowledged it, and now she will move on. Or, _try_ to. Whatever. Damn the feeling. She makes it three steps away from the bar before she's backtracking, and ordering a shot to go. Because Toto is playing now and god- Chloe really does love this song- and no, it's not like she'd need liquid courage to bust up the D Floor on her own, but in this case, she just thinks it might be little bit more fun drunk. Who knows how long Beca will be?

It seems to be popular with the crowd, as well, because suddenly it's swarming with middle-aged men and women, which makes it a little easier to slip into the veil of the dancefloor. There are definitely individuals here that could be considered too drunk to be busting a rug, but they're shouting the lyrics off-key at the top of their lungs and Chloe's totally okay with that. Especially when that one woman is getting up on a chair. Mindful watchers however, get her back down just as fast. Some other song comes on after, and a few others disperse, but Chloe keeps going. Caesar in hand. She's not even feeling it yet. Damn Irish roots. Spinning on heel, Chloe follows the train of people moving away from the dancefloor, back towards the bar. Maybe she'd order another shot. Maybe there could be a stronger drink available that doesn't taste like a homeless man's sock. Her footing skitters to a halt, though, when as she approaches and notices Chris standing with his back to her, leaning against the bar. And, just below his shoulder- Beca.

Her stomach does a kind of swoop and stumble that, no- mustn't be jealousy because that would just be dumb, that's her cousin, and Beca has a boyfriend- but it still stops her in her tracks for a moment. Sharply inhaling through her nose, Chloe reminds herself of this- all within a span of one whole second- before the little reaction has dissipated just as quickly. And then, she diverts the direction of her path, flats hastily hitting the floor at only a slightly elevated pace. Something she doesn't really notice, not until Beca is spotting her from around her cousin's body, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

"Where's the fire, Road Runner?" She quips, causing Chris to turn. His smile is wide and bright, much like his father's. Chloe halts, too quickly to be graceful.

"What?" She blinks, eyes sweeping from Beca to Chris, back to Beca. Something in her reminds her that she should be much more excited to see Chris than she is to see Beca. As it is though, that's not the case.

Beca doesn't answer, though. Chris does. My God, is he ever tall. How did she not find him sooner? "Chloe, I haven't seen you since I was- what, five?"

"Yeah," It feels like she has to lay her head flat against her shoulders to look at his face. "It's been a long time. How tall are you?"

And now he blinks, appearing just as dazed and flummoxed as Chloe did entering the conversation. "Six-foot-six?"

"Wow." She whistles, satisfied. "Yeah. It's been a long time."

Beca snorts, leering around the goliath that was her little cousin. "Are you drunk? I was gone for like, ten minutes,"

"No." She defends herself quickly, because she's not. She kind of feels warm, and she feels unbelievably happy, but she's mostly certain that alcohol has nothing to do with that. "No, I'm not drunk. Just excited." She feels her smile stretch wider, as though to prove a point.

Beca just nods, one eyebrow still hiking towards her hairline with an air of equivocal disbelief. Chris laughs, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and hugging Chloe close to his body. With a small yelp of surprise, she cradles the drink in her hand precariously, willing it not to slosh over and spill. Her prayers are answered. "I'm excited to see you, too, Chloe!" Releasing her from the brief embrace, Chris leans back into the counter, gesturing to Beca with one hand. "So, this is your friend?"

"Yup!" At even the smallest notion of being addressed, she can see Beca's shoulders tense. Chloe makes quick work of that. "Just kidding, she's my personal assistant. I hate her." Scowling, Chloe rolls her eyes at the girl across from her, who relaxes slightly.

"Oh my god," Beca cooes, raising one hand to her chest, and batting her lashes in her best sweet valley girl impersonation. "I like, totally hate you too!"

Simpering, Chloe mimics the action with her free hand and pouts. "Aw, isn't she the worst?"

Beca's serious expression cracks after a moment. "Shut up." She scoffs, turning into the bar and resting her forearms against the granite, turning to look at them from her profile. "Or I'll tell an embarrassing story. It's your kin,"

She's about to challenge Beca at that, but Chris steps in once again. "Whoa, ladies, _ladies_ ," He's smiling, planting one hand gently on each girl's shoulder. Beca furrows her brow. "Unnecessary. Besides," He leans closer to Beca, mischeviously eyeing Chloe. "I think I know an embarrassing story you don't."

Interest piqued, Beca straightens, mirroring her cousin's smirk. "Really?" One of the bartenders come over to check on them. Beca orders a drink, and Chris continues, much to Chloe's disdain.

"Oh yeah. A great story about our flower garden at Easter."

Chloe gasps, bringing one hand up and slapping it against a solid bicep. "Oh, no you don't!"

Warding her off with a single arm, the boy laughs. "This is one of my last memories of Chloe, actually," Beca is clearly all ears. "We were having our egg hunt," Shifting around, Chloe ducks under the arm fending her off and emerges at Beca's side, cupping her hands over the girl's ears.

"Don't listen to him, Beca!"

Squirming from her grasp, the girl grins maniacally. "Okay, now I _have_ to know!"

"You really don't." She insists.

"Someone got mud on her pretty dress-" Batting his lashes with all the innocence of a wee cherub, Chris milks the story. There's another solid twenty seconds of her futile attempt to cover her cousin's mouth or her friend's ears, before she relents, crossing her arms over her chest and unhappily sipping at her caesar. Without Chloe's frantic interruption, he's able to finish the tale. Leaving her shamed at her eight year old self, and her ill-thought-out opinion on public decency, which maybe has only gotten _slightly_ better. She doesn't streak anymore, nor has she since then, but she may have a penchant for walking in on a small brunette girl in the shower without thought, or asking Stacie to inspect her right breast one evening after an uncertain discovery. But, that's what friends do, right?

"Wow." Beca beams, once the tale has come to it's end. "I love learning embarrassing things about you." Chloe hangs her head. There's a warmth in her cheeks, and she sighs, trying to regain something of her composure.

"I was a free spirit." Is what she can come up with, and Chris laughs, glancing over at Beca to gauge her reaction. Which is a sickly humoured one, to say the least. She can just see it now; Beca, coyly sliding the story into conversation in the midst of the other Bellas so that Chloe can take the collective heat of jokes. Leverage. The god damn pot brownie that was _an accident_ no matter _what_ Beca says, all over again. But, when Chris' feet shuffle over the floor, inching closer to the girl, it clicks. Because she thinks she made a promise to Beca that she'd find _some_ kind of way to get her in trouble. So she can bide her time, for now. Time that is spent engaging in further conversation for a few more minutes, dancing to a few more songs, and then checking out the dessert cart once it emerges from the kitchen. Waiting.

Patience is something Chloe is good at. More or less. Usually more. This is one of those times. But when Chris finally excuses himself to use the washroom, leaving her alone with Beca, she has her chance. Casting the line.

"He's _so_ into you, Becs."

Beca stops her idle tour of the dessert cart abruptly, the hand not grasping a cupcake halting mid-air in it's journey towards a white chocolate fudge bar companion. And she turns her head towards Chloe, with a comical slowness, face all screwed up, Chloe can practically see all the sudden, panicked little thoughts zipping around behind her eyeballs. "No, he's not." It only remains levelled because of an extensive effort on Beca's part.

It's a bite. And now, she reels.

"He totes is, Beca! Have you really not noticed?" And she's not just saying it, she's really not. She's embellishing it a little, sure, because he hasn't really done anything outright to warrant such an accusation. But, she's always had a knack for body language. And most of the time, it doesn't lead her wrong. Chris was totally giving Beca all the subtle signs. "Oh my god, that's adorable."

Beca, regaining motion of her hand, reaches out and plucks up the desired treat. "No." Chloe isn't sure to which part she was referring, but she smiles anyway. The way Beca says it, uncertain and dropping at the end, makes her feel like there's a second part about to be tacked on. Once she finds the words, of course. "Well, I mean, whatever anyway," Beca's jaw clenches, and Chloe can see the girl's throat bob as she thinks. Weighing things in. Beca absently fumbles with the fudge in her hand for a moment, before bringing it mouth-level, and in hamster essence, gives it a little sniff before nibbling.

"There's no pot in that, Becs," She jokes, if only just to fill the space. Beca's response to that is pulled straight from the Kimmy Jin handbook; an impressive side-eye.

"You really think he is?" Beca says, once the stink eye falls away and she's back to overthinking. Chloe nods, firm but passionate.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely."

"Shit." Beca curses, pouting. "Oh no, this makes this all weird now."

And reeling.

"You're lucky you're dating Jesse," Beca scoffs, so close to being exasperated or venomous or something equally distasteful that Chloe's brain hits a curb. She can feel it, the way the rest of her sentence about setting her up sort of dissolves on her tongue and she can feel her brow curve in confusion. Usually, poise is her thing. More or less. This is one of the less times. The reaction had just come so out of left field than what she was expecting. "What?"

Usually, poise isn't quite Beca's thing. Sometimes she gets it. She definitely gets it when she's on stage, when she's bumping to a totally awesome acapella tune and she is selling whatever it is they're there to sell. This is not one of those times. She looks just as shocked, or perhaps disoriented at her own reaction; whether it be the response itself or the sheer obviousness of it. She blinks for a few moments. Runs her tongue along her teeth. "It's nothing." She says quickly, turning her attention back to the sweet. "I don't know why that came out as weird as it did."

Chloe's not sure if she's lost her catch. Of course, she'd never assume Beca was lying. But she's private. And hates talking about her problems, prefers instead to hoard them up behind whatever walls she still has up. Lock them in the dungeon in the castle behind those walls. So, yeah; there's a note that hits Chloe the wrong way with that, but she won't push it. Because angry Beca is the equivalent to the dragon guarding everything. "Oh. Okay, I was a little blindsided."

Beca's smile is crooked. "Sorry, dude. Yeah, that was weird."

Bringing her hand up to scratch at the small amount of exposed clavicle her dress left open, she tries to get her mind back on track. She'd been keen on teasing the younger girl, but now she wasn't so sure. Beca turns to the dessert stand, wandering it's lengths slowly, aimlessly, with the stiff uncertainty blanketing every movement. From the way she brings the fudge to her mouth and nibbles, to the way her head cranes every now and then to pretend to inspect some other treat, and the way her toes tap nervously against the floor.

"I'm going to get a drink." Chloe opts to avoid asking straightforwardly if Beca would like one too, but in the way her head lolls back on her shoulder to look at Chloe, she knows. And when they get to the bar, Chloe isn't the only one ordering. Gingerly, Beca nurses another gin and tonic, and Chloe can't help but note that she must be getting to the warm and fuzzy point. Only because she knows Beca, she's _partied_ with Beca- on multiple occasions- Beca is perhaps one-hundred-ten pounds soaking wet, and her tolerance is much below Chloe's.

Sipping her second caesar of the evening, Chloe proceeds in observing the girl from over the rim of her glass. "You wanna dance the night away?" She asks after a moment, pressing her lips together so she doesn't burst into a grin when Beca's sigh of antipathy is her response. That's alright. She asks again when Beca's done her drink, and the answer is yes.

Beca's response to the Jesse thing is something that remains rooted somewhere in the base of her stomach, even through the dancing. Mixing unhealthily with the jealousy she'd felt earlier in the evening and disturbed even moreso from the liquor steadily soaking into her veins. Because Beca seemed to be perfectly happy hitting the bar in frequent intervals, and as her level of intoxication rose, she demanded Chloe to _'get on her level_ '. To appease Beca, she'd of course joined her, although when she felt herself slipping into something that could be too delirious to be just buzzed she cut herself off. Not long after, she'd decided that it was time for Beca's cut off, too.

It was close to eleven thirty and Chris had joined them on and off between dancing and drinking, but he also disappeared from time to time. And every time he rejoined, Beca would give her a nervous little glance from the corner of her eye that would make Chloe giggle.

But she was still concerned. This was unlike Beca. Drinking to get over the jitters, sure, but she hadn't pegged Beca to start her own personal booze cruise.

"Let's get a shot!" The girl announces, as one song fades to the next. The DJ had disclosed that the bar would be closing at the stroke of midnight, although the dancefloor was open for all until one o'clock. Most of the people had filtered out already, though, a good three quarters. But the younger folks in attendance and the few middle aged party-animals left were all varying degrees of drunk and that fueled their dancing spirits. That was totally fine with Chloe. Beca, on the other hand, was about to overdo it.

"Oh!" Because the younger girl is breezing past Chloe and making a straightaway for the bar. By the time Chloe spins to follow her she's almost off of the dancefloor. Chasing after her, she reaches the girl before she has completely left the area though. Extending a hand, she catches Beca by the forearm, her grip slipping just as quickly as she catches it. "Beca!" She doesn't stop. She's got a one track mind. Without thinking, Chloe sort of throws herself at her, wrapping her arms around Beca's lithe waist and heaving. The brunette yelps as her feet come off the ground and Chloe's chuckling, spinning the girl and planting her on the floor in the opposite direction. "I don't think so."

Frowning, Beca struggles to pry Chloe's hands off of her. Realizing she is, indeed still holding her, Chloe lets go. "What? Why?" Beca questions among a breathless rush. "It's about to close. We need to get one more in."

"We," Chloe bops the girl on the nose, and indignantly, the girl jerks her head away from her. "don't need anything, Count Boozey."

With an irritated, albeit determined huff that is at it's core quintessential Beca Mitchell, the girl throws a lock of hair over her shoulder with a flare of attitude that emerges amidst the aid of liquor. "Why are you stopping me, ma'dame?"

And that pulls a peal of laughter from Chloe, who raises her eyebrows at the girl across from her. Beca mirrors her action, although her rendition of the response is a tad bit more challenging. "Because," Chloe pulls her lip between her teeth, fighting to suppress the grin that threatened to break out over cheeks. "you just called me 'ma'dame'. That's the biggest indicator that you've had enough right there."

At some point before _'just enough_ ' alcohol becomes _'too much_ ' alcohol, drunk Beca will begin to talk like sober Jesse. And Chloe found it cute- endearing, at most, because if sober Beca heard herself say things like _ma'dame_ or _m'lady_ in a context that wasn't entirely coated with sarcasm, she would be mortified in a way beyond belief. Rolling in her non-existent grave.

So, in the past, whenever Beca would catch her by her coattails on their way out of the Bella house and whisper; "make sure Amy doesn't get me fucked up tonight please?" Chloe would know to be on the lookout for this phase. Drunk, but still manageable. And, she would intervene any other liquor offers with grace, offering herself as substitution or immediately after the drink had been handed to the small brunette, she could wisk them off for something ' _private'_ until they were out of sight and she could dutifully pluck the drink from Beca's hand. Relocating it somewhere else, or occasionally regifting it to some other drunk suitor. Usually Stacie.

Dark blue eyes narrow, throwing daggers through the space between them. "One more." She argues, but Chloe doesn't budge. Just shakes her head firmly.

"Nope." She then uses her hand to motion through the air, miming the action of snipping at some invisible rope. "You've been cut off."

Beca pouts. She's really, genuinely pouting. Jutting her bottom lip out and crossing her arms over her chest, and it is so ridiculously adorable that Chloe can feel her heartrate increase inside her chest. And she thinks she should have developed a tolerance by now, that she shouldn't get this tightening around her lungs every single time she feels slightly more endeared than usual- and that happens a lot- but she hasn't. Doesn't think she will anytime soon. "Know what Stacie would say right now?" The girl straightens up, poking one finger into Chloe's sternum as she does so.

Reigning in her smile, Chloe sets her jaw and levels that same, unimpressed look that Beca was giving her. "What?"

"She'd say you're a party-pooper." Beca lowers her voice, so it sounds more like a promise than a whisper. "She'd say you poop at parties."

Laughter fills her lungs, and Chloe shakes her head at the girl. "You aren't swaying me. You have one of two options," Lifting one finger up in Beca's direction, the girl lowers her hand from where it had been resting determinedly into Chloe's ribcage. "We stay here and we dance for a while longer- maybe until the hall closes, if you want- _or_ ," She adds a second finger into the air. "We can just go back to the room now and order something on Pay Per View."

Beca huffs, midnight-blues roaming the room as she tapped her foot against the floor, weighing her options. Moments that stretched out, until the girl casually reaches around herself to pry her phone from her back pocket. It's then that it becomes clear to Chloe that Beca had made a third option for herself; which was not to answer at all. "What are you doing?" She asks the girl, a fond, amused smile pulling across her face.

Smugly, Beca looks up at Chloe from over the screen of her iPhone. "Texting Stacie." As if she was tattling on something legitimate. Snorting, Chloe watches Beca's finger move as they navigate screens, and then begin tapping out a message.

"You do that." She leans forward, and Beca's head snaps up warily. "I'm not scared of Stacie."

Beca raises her eyebrows, running her tongue along her teeth before dropping her gaze back at the screen, hitting send with a pointed importance. "Sent." She confirms. Chloe honestly can't see where Beca must think this is going to get her; her best guess is that she's somehow hoping to prove a point.

"I'm glad you still know how to operate modern technology."

"I'm not even that fucked up!" Beca hisses. Chloe raises her eyebrows at the outburst, shocked to find that kind of insistence from the small brunette. In the way Beca's face slackens immediately after, however, Chloe thinks she might realize the mistake that was, because she's tripping over her own tongue within the next two seconds. "Sorry- I'm sorry. That was rude."

"Beca Mitchell." Chloe says her name coolly- and no, she's not mad about the miniature sized combustion of a fuse, but it definitely didn't do anything to alleviate the concern she'd been harbouring for the latter part of the evening. "I'm going to ask you again," Raising the two fingers back up into Beca's direction, she waggles them at the younger girl. "Dance, or room?"

Pulling her lips into her mouth, Beca works them for a moment. "Dance." She decides on, although she doesn't sound entirely convinced. Opening her mouth to respond, Chloe pats Beca gently on the shoulder.

"There you guys are!" She's being interrupted before she can get around to praising Beca on her choice. The moment the voice hits her ears, Beca's eyes widen, full to the brim with alarm. It pulls a fit of giggles out of Chloe.

"Room." Beca corrects herself, the hand not still fastened around her phone coming up to snake around Chloe's wrist in a vice grip. "I changed my mind, I want the room." Nodding her understanding through her laughter, Chloe turns just in time to find Chris approaching them.

"God," He breathes, planting a heavy hand on each of their shoulders. "I don't know how I managed to lose you guys in here!"

"Hey Chris," She grins, carefully stepping out from under the hand. "we were just about to leave." Twisting her mouth into a frown, she apologizes. "Sorry." She knows she's not, can feel it in the way her nose wrinkles up.

"Oh, you're leaving?" His face falls into a frown that's a lot more sincere. Chloe feels a little bit bad, being it's the cousin she hasn't seen in a decade and then some. But, he is a little overbearing; even for her.

"Yeah, sorry. Gotta get this one to bed," She gestures to Beca, who smiles with all of her teeth. Chris says something else, but Chloe's already busy yanking Beca off of the dancefloor, and shouting a promise to keep in touch over her shoulder. Just before they can reach the hall, the brunette sighs, and suddenly Chloe is squinting against the light of a phone screen being shoved centimetres in front of her face.

 _Beca: Stace, Chlo is cutting me off._

 _Stacie: Chloe poops at parties._

Rolling her eyes, she gently presses her hand against the wrist that's holding said phone, pushing the object away from her with a smile. Beca is sort of giving her an entirely too satisfied, shit-eating grin for having predicted- word for word- Stacie's reaction. Chloe also grins for an entirely different reason, or several really- but one of them being catching Stacie's contact image in the little bubble next to her name. Which was a baby photo that the Bellas had wrangled from their well-endowed acapella sister after the girl had lamented that she'd been an ugly baby. No one believed this. Stacie refused to find them a picture until Amy, with her many persuasive ways, had physically sat on the girl until she relented. And, while Chloe doesn't make a habit of calling babies ugly- Stacie was one ugly baby. When everyone eventually agreed with her, Stacie had pouted and claimed that her mother had told her that ugly babies make good looking adults, and, well, Mrs. Conrad seemed to be right about that.

"If things don't work out with Paul," Chloe muses, gently guiding a teetering Beca back upright as they halt near the elevator. "I should set up Stacie with Chris."

Beca blinks at her, a half-glare and a muttered, _"I'm fine"_ after Chloe's assisted re-centering- before sighing and pinching her nose between her index finger and thumb. "I'm going to hope Chris is better when he's not so, I don't know, excited?"

Chloe can't help but agree with that. He was a bit much- even for her. Or, maybe it turns out she and Beca have something in common; and it's that they both do much better when surrounded by family that isn't necessarily their own. Because she can't say she necessarily shined tonight, but, oh well. She lets her head loll to the side, humming her consent to Beca's statement and watching as the little indicator over the mechanical doors turns to a _'G_ ' for ground floor a moment before the doors are opening with a ding. There's no one on the other side, so she and Beca both file in, and Chloe depresses the button to their floor and waits for the doors to close again.

There's still a concern weighing on her, casting a stone in her stomach and slowly sinking. Beca had been off her axis all night. Not to mention her recent opening up the last time she'd drank at the Halloween party.

But she won't press.

She's told herself that she won't.

All Chloe can do is peek at Beca from the corner of her eyes, the way the girl is tapping her fingers along the railing on the inside of the elevator- not to the tune playing softly through the speakers though, but something else that hit the beats in-between. Mixing. Constantly working. Effortless or not, Beca was always on par with the rhythms in the smallest kinds of things. Elevator music, the blinker of her car- when her thumbs would patter along the steering wheel without noticing- or join in to the methodical repetition of Cynthia Rose's equally unaware humming. And it never failed to catch Chloe's attention.

Even now, when Beca spots her staring, all she can do is smile.

* * *

The soft tick-tocking of the clock on the hotel wall begins to rock her to sleep, after some time. Time that had been spent, to Chloe's frustration, with her brain tracing and re-tracing over the concern with her jealousy, and Beca's behaviour. She was beginning to think that it would be a sleepless night for her.

Which, in itself, was also subject for worry. Because Chloe doesn't have sleepless nights. Before big exams and after stressful first dates, Chloe Beale slept like a baby.

Usually.

But it's when she's finally riding the waves into unconsciousness that she hears a yelp- in some foggy, far-off voice. It rouses her just enough for her to roll over, squinting against the darkness of the room, to see some frame leaping around in the shadows.

A frame she quickly realizes is Beca.

And as dazed as she is, she's snapping upright, blindly fumbling for the bedside lamp at the same moment the girl is staggering over towards her. Her fingers graze the metal pull-chain and Beca loses her footing in the dark, and Chloe has about half of a second to comprehend the figure falling in her direction the moment before Beca's skull smashes into her own, and her hand wraps around the chain.

And, well, she's awake now.

Her hiss of pain is in unison to Beca's groan, and the light comes on. Beca groans louder. Chloe brings her free-hand to gingerly touch her forehead and she's not trying to scowl at Beca- she's really not, but she knows she is.

"Beca, what?"

The brunette bonelessly rolls to her side- half slumped onto Chloe's bed, half-draped on the floor. "There was a spider." She explains sheepishly. "Crawling on me. There's a spider in my bed."

Blinking away some of the lingering grogginess, Chloe drops her hand. She doesn't think their collision would be enough to plant a goose-egg on her head, and the momentary baffled anger that had worked it's way into her head was gone just as fast. "Are you sure?"

Beca nods, bringing her own hand up now to inspect her cranium. "Positive." Her nose wrinkles up, eyes shut. "I'm gonna have to strip the sheets."

"Is your head okay?" Chloe watches Beca's hand navigate around her left temple, rubbing in slow circles.

"Yeah. Fine." Beca sighs again. "Sorry about that. Is yours?"

"Yeah, no damage."

"Oh good."

There's a bright, neon glow coming from the satellite under the TV, reading that it's somewhere near two o'clock. Stripping the sheets would involve keeping the lights on and it could consume ten-to-fifteen minutes, which isn't much in the grand scheme of things, but it's enough to make a sleep-addled Chloe dread watching the smaller brunette push herself to her feet, beginning to shuffle over to the abandoned bed. The duvets thrown askew from her abrupt departure.

Chloe's been no stranger to inviting Beca in her bed before. This is no different.

Rolling onto her back, Chloe places the back of her hand against her forehead and peeks at Beca from under her brow. "Bec?" She says softly, and the brown-haired girl glances back over her shoulder. "Don't argue with what I'm about to say." Beca's eyebrows jump, just once, in question. "Just get in the bed."

Pressing her lips together, Beca straightens, like she wants to argue it. Her specific, fruitless, Beca-brand of arguing. Chloe doesn't let her gaze waver for a moment. And when Beca opens her mouth to protest, Chloe is just as quick to cut her off. It doesn't take much more after that, before the girl is trudging over and climbing to the far side. After she's slipped beneath the blankets, Chloe reaches outwards and turns the lamp back off, leaving only the green neon. She hears Beca sigh some kind contentment, and smiles to herself, carefully rolling onto her side to face Beca's back.

She wants it not to be weird. She wants it to be a completely natural kind of thing. But Beca- as generally unbothered as she may be whenever Chloe throws her arm over her when they're nestled together on a Bellas movie night or the pass-out after a party- has barriers. And it's hard to say when they'll be up, but Chloe tries to be very careful when she scales them. And finding herself in the situation once again after alcohol has been involved and Beca derails in some way or another, Chloe can honestly say that she's not one hundred percent sure how to proceed.

Settling somewhere back into the routine of replaying her jealousy and confusion, she finds herself staring into Beca's back. She doesn't notice it. Not at first. Not until she realizes that the rise and fall has become methodic, and that once again- Chloe isn't sleeping.

There's also the distant knowledge that she could just sidle up next to Beca now, and not worry about startling her.

She doesn't.

But she thinks about it. About wrapping an arm over Beca and pulling her close- only snuggles. Beca couldn't be that mad or that weirded out either way, because Chloe knows that Beca knows, and has grown accustom, to her sometimes insatiable need for them. It's not like Beca's the first person to be subjected to this. Admittedly- she snuck into her parents' bed every night until she was ten, she nearly smothered every single one of her past boyfriends; hell, even Aubrey knew that this was something that couldn't be deterred. She'd had to break the blonde girl into accepting it nearly as much as she'd had to with Beca.

Tom had been the only one who'd embraced the onslaught of physical affection- maybe he even liked it more than she did. That could be, too, because at least sixty-percent of the time it resulted in something a little bit more than snuggling.

Deep down though, somewhere during her mindless observation of Beca's breathing patterns, Chloe knows she may not be able to keep her mind from straying. She can't entirely blame the alcohol, either. And while it's something she never would have anticipated would become an issue, she can sense it in the way the bed was suddenly becoming too hot. Her bored, tired mind running rampant with mostly forgotten about experiences from the past.

Once she realizes where it is her mind is going, she rolls to her other side with a frustrated huff, staring instead at the dishelved bed Beca had left behind.

It's not until the clock almost reads three that she moves again, stretching outwards to pick up her phone from where she'd left it on the charger next to the nightstand. The light hurts her eyes, but she squints her way through; opening up her last text message chain with Stacie and sending three whole letters.

SOS.


	10. Chapter 10

**Busy busy, it's hard to keep track. Thanks for the reviews everyone!**

 **Songs in order are:  
** **Umbrella- Rihanna  
No Scrubs- TLC**  
 **Baby Boy- Beyonce**  
 **Hold On We're Going Home- Drake**  
 **Her- Majid Jordan**  
 **Temperature- Sean Paul**  
 **Rock With You- Michael Jackson**  
 **Birthday Sex- Jeremih**  
 **It Wasn't Me- Shaggy**  
 **Fill Me In- Craig David**  
 **Don't- Bryson Tiller**  
 **Ms. Jackson- Outkast**  
 **You Make Me Feel- Cobra Starship**

* * *

" _Back away, she-devil!_ "

The holler manages to reach Beca's ears as it echoes through the auditorium- and that includes to where she currently stands, half-in half-out of the attached bathroom on the far end of the theatre.

The Tasmanian twang- coupled with the words of choice and the unknown context sitting atop of that, not even _beginning_ to mention the fact that she apparently can't even take a pee without chaos brewing without her- immediately spurs a jolt of panic in her gut. Furrowing her brow, she picks up her pace and heads towards the sound, where there was a following amass of shouts and cries.

"Chloe?" She calls warily- because, honestly, she'd expected the girl to keep the peace in her very brief absence. Beca hears her own voice echo around the auditorium and the Bellas voices get softer for a moment.

"Yeah, Becs," Comes the exasperated response. "I'm here." But she can't deny the fact that Chloe sounds like she was beginning to wish she wasn't.

Turning the corner, Beca observes the scene; Amy standing with her hands braced against the back of a plastic blue chair, acting as a buffer while Stacie scowls at her from the other side. Chloe, nearby, standing sort of in between the two with one hand outstretched toward either Bella; apparently ready to ward off an attack from either end. The remaining women stood around the scene, leisurely sipping from water-bottle's with complete apathy, or perhaps- in Jessica and Ashley's case- mild concern.

"What is going on?" Resting her hand against her forehead, Beca closes remaining space, eyes sweeping from the blonde, to the brunette, and then to the redhaired girl in the middle.

Practice had been _mostly_ going smoothly today. They'd really gotten their steps down and they'd started experimenting with some hula-hoops and glowsticks, alongside a few other fun props. To find this now was... disheartening. But not entirely surprising. Dipping her chin towards her chest, Chloe cautiously eyes the two women before sighing. "I think we're a little... _exhausted_." Her eyes dart over to Amy, who's brow furrows deeply.

"I have low blood sugar, Beca." The blonde woman complains, throwing her arms up. Beca groans.

"Amy, we've been over this; you don't have any blood-sugar problems." But, maybe- considering how well they've all done up to this point- they _did_ deserve a break. After a few beats, she lets out a begrudging sigh, and sweeps her hands out towards the women gathered. "Alright guys, we'll practice again tomorrow with Legacy."

There are a few murmurs as people safely begin their conversations as they disperse, but the three women near the chair stick for a moment. Stacie is the first to turn heel and head towards her water bottle on the bleachers. It only takes Amy a moment longer before she is following suit, and Chloe can officially leave her position as peace-keeper.

"Well," She huffs as she makes her way towards Beca. "They were okay _most_ of the time."

Something Beca has noted on a few occasions; is that they seem to be rather in sync when it comes to thoughts on Bellas. But she usually chalks it up to Chloe's bordering-on-freakish ability to just _know_. Things _and_ people. But she can only grunt her agreement as the girl drifts past her with a gentle press into her shoulder, and Beca obliges her wordless request and takes a step to her right, allowing the girl past. She watches the rest of the Bellas filter out of the auditorium, a respectful distance kept between Stacie and Fat Amy as they exit, and Beca knows that whatever it was that had started their argument would be forgotten by the time they got back to the house.

* * *

She and Jesse pick up Moon Wok for dinner, and she spends the better part of the evening eating said takeout on his bed in his shared dorm; watching (or in Beca's case- partially watching) some Jake Gyllenhaal movie and working on their various projects. For Jesse, it was his write-up for some other movie for his Films class. For Beca, it was mentally going over sets, choreo, while simultaneously trying not to worry about _literally_ everything and anything Bellas. It was a hard, taxing task.

It was the first time she's seen Jesse since the quarrel they'd had while Beca was off at Chloe's uncle's thing- something Beca was already stressing about enough without help from him. She'd tried not to dwell on it, but the bitterness remains rooted in the base of her gut.

After Chloe had convinced her to get onto the dancefloor, he'd called. She excused herself and cut through the crowd until she left the hall, taking a seat in the lobby of the hotel before phoning him back.

" _Beca_!" He answered on the first ring. " _Where are you_?"

"Chloe's thing." She responds brusquely, the passive accusation in his voice not missed on her.

" _That's today?_ "

"Yes, it is. We're in Atlanta right now, at the thing. Why're you-" She pulls the phone away from her ear, checking the clock on her phone. To her surprise, it's only twenty after eight, although she feels like it's much later. "why're you calling?"

She knows it comes off rougher than she meant it to, which is why it's no surprise when she can hear the indignation in his voice. " _What do you mean,_ why am I calling?"

"I just mean like, is something wro-?"

" _I can't just call my girlfriend, Becs? I just wanted to hang out- but I guess that's off the table_."

"Jesse, don't be like that. It's not _my_ fault that you don't remember when I tell you things." She can feel her temper flaring- she hates it when Jesse gets that way. Insecure and throwing temper tantrums. It reminded her of the time in her Freshman year, when he was all swollen and upset whenever she spoke to Luke- like she was his and had a claim on her. As if she couldn't talk to her _boss_.

" _You always get like this_ ," He mutters, and Beca baulks, despite the fact that he can't see her. Sure, she is aware of his tendency to be a little territorial, but this sour attitude was farther our of character than she was expecting.

" _Me_?" She barks. "As if _I'm_ the one here overreacting?"

" _No, I mean- you always get all like,_ "see ya Jesse!" _whenever you're with Chloe_."

"I do _not_!" What the hell does that even _mean_?

" _You do! You always talk to me like I'm the biggest burden in the world when you're around her._ "

"She's not even here! She's in the hall, _dancing_ , and I'm sitting here in the lobby talking to you."

" _She's into you_."

Beca can't tell if her anger momentarily subsides or if it bursts with such explosive indignation that it wipes her hardrive clean for a moment. Was he _insane_? What kind of _neurotic, paranoid_ \- "What are you _on_?"

" _Beca_ ," Here, his voice betrays that softer, insecure tone that Beca had foreseen coming at some point. " _Don't take this the wrong way, but can't you see? I know you never had a lot of girl friend's before the Bellas, so I don't know if you just think that this is how they all are-_ " She can feel her jaw gape open at his audacity.

"Are you-?" Her brow furrows deeply, shaking her head. "Are you _psychoanalyzing_ me Jesse? Take off your frickin' rose coloured glasses,"

" _She walked in on you in the shower, Beca! That's not normal!_ "

" _Four years ago_." She reminds him, just in case he had forgotten _that_ piece of information. She curses herself for ever telling him the real story of why she joined the Bellas. "It's not like it's a monthly ritual?"

And she's always known he was the jealous type- it was one of his biggest pitfalls- what with Luke, that one time some guy at Target gave her his number, now apparently, with Chloe- and honestly, sure, she doesn't find jealousy as something that's particularly healthy but she knows it's just an emotion. And some people handle it better than others. Jesse tends to let it make him see green.

" _She_ -"

"Bye, Jesse. You need to take a breather."

And she hangs up on him, just like that. She remains sitting on the couch in the lobby for minutes longer, replaying the bizarre turn he had taken the argument in her mind. How could he even believe that could be what was going on? He must be more prone to jealousy than she had initially thought, to think that he had competition with her best friend now. Jealous that she was spending time with Chloe instead of _him_.

It wasn't until her heart-rate had somewhat returned to normal, and the girl from behind the desk in the lobby had wordlessly provided her with a glass of water in an act of unspoken solidarity that suggested that they had _all_ put up with a fickle man in their life, that she'd returned to the hall, frustrated and baffled. Her first course of action she'd decided on was getting a drink, but then Chloe's cousin had approached her and Beca had the unusual- but slightly amused- thought that if Jesse could see her talking to another guy right now, he might actually implode.

Granted, however, Jesse had made an apology. She felt like it wasn't entirely sincere, could sense it in the way his mouth formed a hard line, and his eyes sort of glassed over. But Beca could at least give him credit.

At some point though, to Beca's dismay, it starts to rain. Jesse, being Jesse, offers for her to stay with him. Beca has to decline though, she's was perfectly capable of the six minute drive across campus that it takes to return to the Bellas house.

The rain seems to have driven everyone to their bedrooms in the Bella house, however. Or, in Amy's case- to Bumper's. Beca didn't see a soul as she entered, plopping her keys in the bowl by the front door, and drifting through the house- it was a bit eerie. Usually the house wasn't so quiet. When she climbs the first set of stairs, she can hear muffled music coming from behind someone's closed door, and she feels a bit settled. Even more so when she makes it to her bedroom and finds it empty.

She strips in favour of pyjamas, collapsing herself into her desk chair and booting up her laptop. In a small burst of motivation, she navigates the windows and opens up a blank slate to start a new track, refiling through her song library in search of tracks to work from.

With her headphones secured around her ears, Beca begins working, paying no mind to the clock in the bottom right hand corner of the screen or to her phone when she sees it light up in her peripheral vision; revealing it to only be Jesse when she glances in the direction. In all honesty; she was still mad. She may be trying really hard not to think about it, but the irritation is there sitting in the back of her mind, waiting patiently to be given attention to. She refuses. It was a ridiculous allegation and she wasn't sure what to do with it; she didn't want to give it any kind of validation by even _considering_ if Jesse was somehow right- because he was so obviously _not_.

A blur in the corner of her vision catches her attention instead; and Beca looks up, caught in the appearance of red hair rising through the gaps in the banister like her own personal sunrise. Maybe she called Chloe via telepathy or something, during her obsessive _not-thinking-about-it-thinking-about-it._ Sliding the speakers off of her ears, Beca lets them slip off and sit around her neck.

"Hi." She greets coolly, only now glancing at the clock. It was just after ten.

Chloe stops briefly at the top of the stairs with a wide smile as she returns the greeting, and continues her journey towards Beca's bed, where she sits herself down against the foot of it. Beca swivels in her chair to keep the girl in her line of sight. "What's up?" She asks Chloe, casually bringing her hands around to flip the cord over onto the opposite side of her body, so that it wasn't draped across her.

"Well," Chloe begins, raising her arms above her head in a long stretch. "I was just thinking, and I _think_ I came up with a new Bella exercise."

She doesn't groan because she's not a dick; but she truly can't wrap her head around Chloe's twenty-four-seven commitment. Like, Beca is committed. But Chloe was probably pretty close to being able to be called ' _obsessed_ ' when it came to Bellas. "Chloe- don't you ever relax?"

The girl furrows her brow and scoffs. "Oh yeah," Dropping backwards onto Beca's bed with some kind of full-body stretch, like a lazy house cat. The material of her sleep shirt shifts, exposing a strip of skin and Chloe's hand absently comes back to rest on her stomach. "all the time."

And she can hear it; the annoying, gloating, _buzzing_ tone of Jesse's voice in her head crowing " _I told you so, I told you so!_ " when Beca's eyes absently flicker downwards. It's not anything. Nothing. It's just something that eyes do- and she's just taking in information, but she can hear Jesse's stupid whining the second she realizes that she's looking at exposed skin. "Okay." Closing her eyes, Beca shakes her head at herself. Like somehow the lack of visual will stop the grating of totally irrational guilt. It kind of does. "Well." _Stupid_. Opening her eyes, she gestures vaguely at Chloe. "Proceed."

And the girl beams, looking at Beca sideways and raising the hand that had been resting against her stomach into the air. "Picture this," Splaying her fingers out, as if she's slapping an idea into the atmosphere; channeling her ideas through space. Which, Beca thinks, is silly. It's not like they're building anything- there's not really any necessity for such theatrics. "We're going over a beat, right? And we get two of the girls at a time doing lyrics- back and forth-" Her hand makes a motion in the air that mimics her hand being beaten to and fro by tennis rackets. "like a riff-off. But, no theme- as long as it goes, and everyone doing the beat has to keep up. Shift to go with the words, you know what I'm saying?"

Chloe is usually good with words. Beca has a theory, however, that when she tries to explain ideas, things come out too jumbled or unclear because she becomes too excited to get her thoughts in order. Or, she oversells. Such as the time at the activities fair where the girl both used " _the tits_ " and " _it's all with our mouths_ " as her main selling points. "Kinda?" She breaches after a moment, and Chloe sighs to herself.

"Is there words on that yet?" She asks, the hand coming to point past Beca at her monitor.

As a matter of fact, there's not. "No?"

Chloe's smile nearly blinds her, and she springs upwards like a Jack in the Box. "Play it."

A moment of refusal bounces against the tip of Beca's tongue. Because she isn't really one for sharing mixes- especially when she's barely made layers onto it, let alone spent hours agonizing over perfecting it. Chloe, ever the observer, notices this hesitation and inclines her head in Beca's direction in a rather reprimanding manner, and she releases a heavy sigh of defeat before reluctantly twirling herself back around in the chair and unplugging her headphones from the jack in her laptop. And then she presses play after inwardly cringing a little. Showing Chloe work early has happened on several occasions; whether it be the girl's resolute requests after walking in on Beca, apparently, looking to be moments away from tearing the hair from her head when she can't sync something quite how she wants or it doesn't end up sounding as good as she hoped. Chloe always thought they sounded _aca-amazing_ , as she's said- on almost every occasion.

The beat she'd been working on this time was slightly slower than her usual style. Truthfully; Beca hasn't decided if she even likes it yet, but, as if that would deter the redhaired girl from liking it any less than she usually did.

She puts it on a loop and wheels back around, watching the expressions cross Chloe's face as she thinks. Bopping her head lightly back and forth with the rhythm, slowly catching on to the beats. And then, after maybe twenty seconds of quiet pondering, her eyes flicker up to meet Beca's and she gives a small, modest smile before deciding to add to it.

" _You have my heart, and we'll never be worlds apart,_ " Chloe sings quietly- not quite shy, but levelling with the volume from the speakers. Beca can't help but smile back- it's weird. Of course, living in an acapella sorority house usually meant that there's someone singing at all points of time during the day, somewhere. If Beca passes a closed bathroom door, there's a strong chance that there will be a voice mixing with the water from the shower hitting the porcelain. People sang while making eggs, while doing laundry, or, while playing Karaoke Star in the living room. Chloe is usually one of the biggest perpetrators for this singing. " _Maybe in magazines, but you'll still be my star_ ," And then the girl dramatically sweeps her arms out to Beca, silently handing her the invisible mic of the impromptu jam sesh they are apparently having now.

Taken off guard, Beca blinks for a moment, the beat stretching out awkwardly in the brief lull. " _No, I don't want no scrubs_ ," She's not sure where TLC comes from, but Chloe is thrilled nonetheless. She has to slow it down a bit though to have it match her tempo. " _scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me. Sitting in the passenger side of his best friend's ride, tryna holler at me_."

Nodding enthusiastically, Chloe immediately jumps in. " _Baby boy you stay on my mind, fulfill my fantasies_." She too, changes her tune slightly however; still matching the beat, but with an elevated level of excitability. " _I think about you all the time, I see you in my dreams_."

It's infectious. " _Cause you're a good girl and you know it, you act so different around me_ ,"

" _I got her, in the palm of, my hand._ " Chloe holds out her hand, palm up, as a prop. This act is also aided by some dance move that very minimally resembles a stereotypical Egyptian head bob. " _She knows I love her, I got her, thought I lost her, again_ ,"

" _Well woman the way the time cold I wanna be keepin' you warm_ ," Chloe quickly claps her hands together, like she's moments from bursting with glee. By the size of the smile on her face, Beca is equally as concerned for her cheeks. But she continues anyway. " _I got the right temperature to shelter you from the storm_ ,"

" _I want to rock with you all night_ ," She hops to her feet, and in a fleeting moment of panic which is totally _not_ panic and Beca _knows_ it, she realizes she's about to be pulled to her feet. " _dance you into today_ ,"

" _It's your birthday so I know you want to ride out_ ," Chloe's hands grip her around the wrists and Beca allows herself to be pulled to her feet. She has a sudden realization that this might be the second closest time it's just the two of them singing, proximity wise. At Beca's mindless choice of song to match the beat they have established, Chloe's eyebrows shoot up among her grin.

" _She caught me on the counter_ " Beca gasps through laughter at Chloe's counter choice " _\- it wasn't me- she saw me bangin' on the sofa,_ "

" _All calls diverted to answer phone, please leave a message at the tone,_ "

" _Don't- love_ -" Chloe, Beca thinks, then does her best impression of what she think a rapper might do as a dance move- a motion that should be awkward because it's silly, but somehow it still looks effortless and is executed with some amount of finesse. " _don't play with her, don't be dishonest_ ,"

" _I'm sorry Ms. Jackson,_ " Chloe throws her head back in laughter, and Beca needs to bite her tongue to stop herself from joining her before continuing. " _I am for real. Never meant to make your daughter cry, I apologize a trillion times_ ,"

" _You make me feel that_ ," It's more of a shout through hysterics than actual singing at this point, but Beca can join in this time on the chorus of ' _la la la la la. La la na na na_ ,' and somewhere during all of this, Chloe gives her a light nudge with her elbow. Or _tries_ to- Beca likes to think she's quick on reflexes even though she's definitely not- and she dodges the oncoming appendage but manages to hook her heel on the back of her desk chair and now she's actually falling. All singing abruptly stops and she can hear herself squeal and Chloe gasp.

"Beca Beca _Beca_!" Chloe reaches out for her as she falls, and in the fraction of a second that it takes for her to hit the floor; she can briefly, and silently, appreciate that much. Her hand sort of grazes the skin of Chloe's, but it's mostly fingertips. She can also see, in the fraction of the second it takes, Chloe then sort of lunges forwards in one last attempt to grab at her but then, all the sudden, her back is hitting the floor and the wind is being pushed from her lungs completely. However, there's something more concerning happening.

There's red hair and blue eyes falling towards her and she sort of huffs out the closest thing to another scream and brings her hands up to protect her face the moment before Chloe's skull makes contact with Beca's shoulder.

Her laptop is still looping the mix she was working on.

They lay there for a moment; full to the brim of dumbfounded disbelief. Or at least Beca is. She's cursing herself, silently, several times over. She can only imagine Chloe must be feeling somewhat similar in the way her weight has yet to shift off of Beca. She's just still. Still as death. _Death_ -? "Chlo?"

Chloe grunts. Irrational panic subsides. Beca drops her head, more gently this time, back to the floor and stares up at the ceiling. Her heart is pumping against her ribs and she can feel an embarrassed flush in her cheeks, along with a small throbbing pain in her collarbone. "This is our second collision in forty-eight hours." Beca mumbles aloud; astonished by their inept ability to crash together not once, but twice, in such a short period of time.

It takes Chloe a moment longer to rouse, finally lifting a slightly dazed and bleary eyed expression to give Beca an incredibly weak stink-eye. "You're a hazard, Beca Mitchell." She sounds like a sullen child, but one corner of her lips twitch and give away her lack of real anger.

Beca is inclined to agree. " _Extreme Danger_ is my middle name."

Chloe's smile pulls wider, and Beca thinks that if they were in any position to shove, she would have just received one. "I'm going to tape a caution sign to your back."

Beca snorts. " _Please_." With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Beca struggles to push herself into a semi-sitting position, and Chloe shifts to accommodate her; rolling off of Beca and tucking her knees under her, but not really moving much more otherwise. "In this house that may as well be a ' _Kick-Me'_ sign."

A giggle leaves Chloe then; an actually childish, _ridiculous_ , and borderline mischievous giggle. She pinches her tongue between her teeth and chances a glance at Beca from under her lashes, clearly holding back more laughter. "I just thought about Amy pushing you down the stairs." She admits, and Beca throws her head back in a long groan.

"I think, _actually_ ," Beca drops her head back down to her chest, trying to pry to keep Chloe's eye contact. "tripping me would be more likely." Her knees bump Chloe's slightly, but she doesn't bother moving.

Blowing the air from her cheeks, Chloe lilts her head to the side in a moment of thoughtful contemplation. Red hair slips and falls loose over her shoulder and Beca idly watches the way it bounces as she moves her head, before bringing her attention back to Chloe's face. For the shortest fraction of a second when their eyes meet, Chloe's look like there's a flicker of surprise, or shock. It's so subtle that Beca wonders, briefly, if she had imagined it. Or, if she _wasn't_ hallucinating or suffering a mild concussion, why Chloe looks like she's just been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. "Yeah."

Beca blinks. "What?" She says it just as softly as Chloe had projected the word, just above a whisper.

"Tripping." Chloe repeats, running her tongue along her bottom lip. "You're right," Beca checks Chloe's eyes again, only to see them avert her gaze as she meets it. "um- yeah I think she'd trip you. Not push."

Slowly, like an oven timer going off in Beca's mind, she clues into where Chloe continues to look. Which, was still _at_ Beca. Still on her face. And the second she realizes, her cheeks get the clammy feeling of blood running back to her cheeks, and her mind speeds up to maximum overdrive.

Was Jesse _right_? Can Beca be _totally_ and _completely_ positive that she hadn't suffered a head injury in the fall?

Most obscurely- is she looking at the same place?

Beca can hear herself inhale sharply, but it sounds distant, like she's underwater. Suddenly, she is acutely aware of her knees brushing Chloe's, and the deafening silence that's drawing between them. "I-" She's not actually sure what she's about to say, because she might actually be getting tunnel vision, and her panic is starting to flare in her chest. The kind that's telling her to fight or flee.

Something gets the chance to cut her off though, before she can say anything stupid.

It's not Chloe.

It's her room suddenly being plunged into complete darkness; other than her laptop still giving off a dull orange glow from the mixing app. The surprise acts as a slap to the face, and she furrows her brow. Like a tangible relief, she feels the tension vanish completely and she shoots Chloe a quizzical look. She can mostly just see the girl's silhouette, but she can make out the equally baffled crease between her eyebrows.

"Amy-?"

* * *

After navigating her bedroom in the dark, Beca had located her phone and used the flashlight to creep down the stairs; finding the Tasmanian in the living room, the rest of the house just as blanketed with darkness.

"It wasn't me." Amy declares when said flashlight is sprung in the Tasmanian's face- and the girl is squinting with her hands help up at her chest. "I'm almost positive."

"It's the snow," Cynthia Rose's raspy voice is rounding the corner of the living room, and Beca scrambles to use the light to locate her. "Must have taken something out. It hasn't stopped for hours."

Groaning, Beca throws her head back on her shoulders. Fuck the snow. Since when had it started snowing? "We have no generator?"

Stacie, who had been curled up on the couch when the power had gone out, snorts. "Where are we- Harvard?"

Narrowing her eyes in the girls general direction, Beca is startled to feel Chloe's hand gently on her shoulder, before the redhead slips past. "The actual buildings will have one, I'm sure." She crosses the light from Beca's phone and she can just see red hair for a moment, before her voice disappears down the hallway. "We could go to one of the common rooms. There's probably stuff going on in there. Or the dorms."

As if on cue, she feels her phone vibrate in her hand; Jesse's name popping up on the screen, and Beca's stomach does a flip.

"We could go to Legacy's room?" Stacie offers half-heartedly, and Beca's about to say something when Amy butts in from next to her.

"Or, we could have a sleepover here in the Bellas house."

Jessica and Ashley cross through the line of light, still directed at Cynthia Rose for some reason, and Beca groans at the same moment all of the girls in the communion gasp or squeal. Stacie bounces up from the couch. "I like that idea better!"

"Guys." Beca does a circle, counting the girls surrounded to see if they have everyone. Flo and Lily are still missing, as well as Chloe. "We live in the same house. We have sleepovers every night."

She's immediately poo-hooed and she frowns. _Typical_. She's not sure why she even tries. "Beca," There's a note of sympathy in Amy's voice. "That's not how sleepovers are done."

Flo waddles into the room, with a blanket wrapped around her burrito-style. Which, as soon as Beca thinks up the analogy, she's quickly trying to reassure herself that the observation had nothing to do with Flo herself. "What's going on?" The girl asks, voice slightly muffled from the blanket crossed over her face. "I was in the middle of watching an episode of SVU." Cynthia Rose fills Flo in on the suspected snow situation, and the girl hums. She _then_ fills the Guatamalan girl in on the sleepover option, and she's just as gung-ho as everyone else. Beca rolls her eyes. She can _just barely_ do movie nights. She's not sure what will happen when they all, surely, try to pile into one room without anything to otherwise occupy them.

They begin talking amongst themselves, and Beca takes the opportunity to drag her thumb across her screen and open up Jesse's text.

 _just got a notification that the dorms are using the generator. is the power out at the Bellas?_

She doesn't really want to answer. Not when she thinks about their argument and the strangeness of what had just transpired upstairs. He would be so smug. But, she does anyway.

 _yup_.

Not a lot, but it's something.

"So," Chloe's voice pulls her attention back from her screen. Beca waves her flashlight around a little until she finds the girl, although her eyes are starting to adjust now. Chloe is holding an armful of objects that takes Beca a moment to register are candles. "do we have a plan?"

"Where'd you get all those candles from?" Beca squints at her. Did Chloe have a secret candle stash that she's never discovered? That would just be bizarre. She's been in Chloe's room a thousand times, and it's not like it's very big. She's pretty sure she would have found them.

Chloe bats her lashes. "The study?"

Well, at least they weren't hiding in Chloe room. "What are we doing with so many candles in the study?"

"That's just where they all end up."

A whisper brushes against Beca's ear and she yelps. She definitely becomes airborne and nearly takes Ashley out in the process, but she's wielding her flashlight around to find Lily having materialised behind her. Holding her opposite hand against her heart and pressing down, trying to keep it from popping out from behind her ribs, Beca relaxes after a moment, turning back to Chloe. Someone- Amy, she thinks- having filled her in. Chloe beams.

"Great!" The redhead announces, kneeling down to begin setting the candles against the coffee table. "I'll start lighting these."

So, Beca supposes, they're really doing this. They're having a sleepover. _Here_. In the _living room_. Of the _house_ they all _live in- together_. She's kind of surprised this hasn't happened sooner.

"Should we text Legacy?" Cynthia Rose asks. Beca shrugs.

"We could. I doubt she'd want to walk over in all this snow, though. God knows I wouldn't."

Her phone vibrates in her hand. Stacie scoffs. "Yeah, but, some people are more fun than you, Becs."

She knows that there's a grain of truth to that statement but her feathers immediately feel ruffled anyways. Beca does yet another circle, hoping for her light to land on the offending girl so that she can give her an especially indignant glare- she finds herself disoriented when she can't locate Stacie, or her boobs, anywhere.

There's the sound of a lighter flicking and Beca turns again, directing her flashlight over to where Lily knelt down next to Chloe, lighting the candles as the other girl set them down. Rubbing her temples, Beca activates her phone screen once again and turns off the flashlight, before checking Jesse's followup text.

 _did you want to come here? i can prepare popcorn in wake of your arrival_

She so badly wants to scream about just how much she _loathes_ popcorn.

 _no thanks, Bellas are planning something that i have to be involved in_

Why hasn't she just broken up with Jesse yet? This _bump_ is clearly reaching further and further uphill- was it just that four years seems like a long time to admit wasting on someone?

"What do we need?" Amy asks aloud, before throwing her arm out and counting on her fingers. "Pillows, blankets, sleeping bags? Anything that might be fun from the basement, booze,"

"Booze isn't actually necessary," Beca interjects quickly. "I'd like to VETO booze." There is some collective booing. "Come on, we don't _need_ it."

"How else is Monopoly fun, Beca?" Amy throws her head back on her shoulders. There's a simple answer to that.

"Never. I see you with a high blood alcohol level going bankrupt, flipping the table."

Chloe stands up, wiping her hands along the front of her shirt. Beca can see her smirk. "I think Beca's right." Thank _God_ her co-captain is on her side for once, but somehow Beca gets the sense that there is an ulterior motive here. Maybe it's in the way wide blues dart over to her in the lowlight, it could be the flame reflecting off of her eyes- giving the illusion of impish thoughts. Or, it could just be that Chloe is that kind of person. "We can pass on that tonight." Her phone vibrates.

There's nothing more but an emoji face crying a single tear. She's not sure how to answer that, so she shuts her phone off and pretends she never saw it.

* * *

In light of Chloe's agreement, the Bellas put up less of a fight about the alcohol situation. They were, however, less likely to budge on the sleepover ordeal when Beca suggests that they not. She's actually pretty sure Amy threw something at her when she had her back turned, but couldn't prove that because the projectile had disappeared into some shadowy corner of the room.

Lily had made the trek down to the basement alone to grab the sleeping bags that were down there that, apparently, no one knew were there except for Lily. Beca was not surprised. However, she is more readily baffled by the amount of things- a plethora of things- such as candles and sleeping bags that resided in the house without her knowledge. They're short two sleeping bags, though. Which meant that the two smallest- Stacie's logic- needed to double with someone. That left Beca, and Flo.

"No." Stubbornly, Beca crosses her arms over her chest. She'd already made her stance on the sleepover quite known. There was _no_ way that she was now being forced to wriggle into a sleeping bag with one of them like a can of sardines.

Chloe clicks her tongue. "Beca."

She shakes her head- vigorously. "No. Absolutely not." She pauses, before throwing daggers over at Amy in the corner- who had suggested the stupid sleepover in the first place and who was currently smacking loudly around a mouthful of salt and vinegar chips she found in the depths of one of the cupboards. "You people are not forcing me to have a sleepover down here, and then make me wedge myself into a sleeping bag with someone else. No."

"I'd offer to let you in with me," Stacie pipes up, sitting cross-legged on the floor, atop of one of the sleeping bags. "If I hadn't already agreed to let Flo in."

Beca glowers. Chloe frowns. Amy shoves her hand into the bag of chips once again and tosses another small handful into her mouth and crunches. "You can bag with me," The woman mumbles, plunging her hand back into the bag. "Roomies, yeah?"

In the _tiny_ window of hypothetical contemplation that Beca goes through; she can _smell_ the salt and vinegar chips and imagines being stuck in a bag with Amy's off-key snoring in her ear. A violent shudder passes through her. "No, thanks."

"You could slip in with me Becs?" Chloe offers next, twisting her lips around to the side and giving Beca an earnest glance. "I'm sure I could make some room for you."

A heavy sigh escapes Beca then- other than her general resentment for most things that enter her very large personal bubble, which this would definitely be doing- there was no real reason for her to decline. Chloe has always been great at slipping through boundaries, to which Beca has long since accepted, but that still doesn't mean she's keen on the idea of slipping into an already occupied sleeping bag nonetheless. No matter _who_ it is. Not even Chloe. Even if she would- _could_ , possibly- be more willing to do so with her than she would with Amy, or even Stacie, or Jessica. But, once again, her mind wanders back to their duet in her bedroom barely an hour beforehand. And Jesse.

God damn Jesse is making her feel weird about everything and he's not even here.

"I don't wanna," Her whine rides on the coattails of her sigh and she stamps her foot down lightly in an attempt to solidify her point. "I want to sleep in my _bed_."

"Tough cookies, Mitchell." Stacie wanders over to where Amy is currently residing on the armchair, idly reaching into the other girls bag of chips. "We're having a sleepover. You are either on the floor or canoodling with someone."

"The couch doesn't count?" Beca questions meekly.

She's said it once, she's said it twice, she's said it a _thousand_ damned times; if she didn't love the Bellas so much, she would hate them. Passionately so. She does, actually, every now and then. This is one of those times.

A chorus of " _No's"_ are shouted at her then, and she raises her hands up to her chest with a groan. "I don't-" It gets a repeat reaction. With an unhappy noise that's a crossover between a huff and a groan, she crosses said arms over her chest tightly, scowling. "I'm not happy, for the record."

"Please," Amy scoffs, waiting with an uncharacteristic amount of patience for Stacie to remove her hand from the chip bag before diving back in. "You get to snuggle with Red, I'd give my left boob to be in your position. I swear on David Bowie's grave, Beca. And George Michael's."

"Why are you swearing on gay men's graves?" It doesn't really make a difference to her. She has a shift tomorrow at the studio and she would like to have not been sleeping practically on the floor all night, shoved in next to another Bella. Most likely Chloe. Who she peeks at as she questions it, watching the girl's mouth twist into a smug little grin that she immediately covers with the back of her fist, pressing it against her lips and angling her body away. It's an odd time to be bashful when the lights are off.

Beca does a quick sweep of the room again, eyes flitting from girl to girl. Part of her already knows it's definitely going to be Chloe. It's a doomed and inarguable endgame, and she knows it. But she can stall for as long as possible.

"Was David Bowie gay?" Amy asks, her voice reaching a higher peak. The kind that says ' _I think you made that up, and my mind won't be persuaded otherwise_ '.

Beca blinks. "Yeah." Dryly, she stares down Amy. "I think so. Somewhat."

There's also the issue of how on earth she's going to get to work tomorrow if the snow was this bad. Maybe she could call in.

"Beca." Stacie sighs then. "Sleeping bag. You and Chloe, or you and Amy. Take your pick."

She groans again- louder this time. Maybe if she annoys them enough they'll all drop it, and Beca can crawl under the covers of her own bed and sleep away the evening. Of course, though- she's ninety-nine percent sure she's tried this tactic before, one way or another, and she's just as positive that it has never once worked. For some reason, when it came to her trying to irritate or vex the Bellas, the group of girls seem to have an insurmountable quota to fill, and Beca has yet to find that peak. Unless it's an actual practice, and Beca is _not_ trying to purposefully irritate them. That's when they become hostile, for reasons unknown to God and herself- she thinks it might just be that as a group, they may love singing and the occasional dancing, but most physical activity was _not_ on their strong suit. Except for a select few. She's not entirely in that select few, but as co-captain, she kind of has to be.

So as the Bellas remain where they stand now, as Beca's groan drags on, not one batting an eyelash out of place or making any possible move to interrupt her whining, Beca recalls something else. Procrastination is the best way out of anything. That's what Amy had told her once. While she, _Amy_ , and Stacie sat Indian-style on the carpet of Beca's shared bedroom, Stacie slowly trying to slip various coloured beads onto a line of translucent fishing wire. Amy, next to her, had been pouring the two of them glasses of wine- Beca can remember now this was when Chloe was sick, and Amy took over the act of being Stacie's much needed wine night partner. She had been confused when she'd climbed the staircase to their bedroom at near twelve thirty in the morning after a night spent with Jesse, only to find the two of them- correction, only Stacie- crafting on her floor. But it's that image she remembers now, as she tapers off her groan and sighs, again.

Procrastination is the best way out of anything.

So, without another word, she trudges forward until she can loosely navigate the base of the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" Amy questions then, indignant. For a second Beca fears she's going to be tackled again, and she jerks her head back quickly to make sure the Tasmanian hasn't left her seat. She hasn't.

"I'm grabbing blankets." She mutters darkly, eyeing each girl with an equal amount of accusation. She's not really that mad, just exasperated. "If that's cool?" It's a rhetorical question. It's going to be cool whether they say it is or not.

The girls sort of mumble and ho and hum, but no one decides to stop her. Rolling her eyes, Beca slides her thumb and forefinger back into the pocket of her pants and slides her phone back out, pulling up the flashlight application and turning it on, so that she can ascend the stairs without falling on her face. She hopes that in her absence, the girls can work it out or find a different solution, but doubts it. She could stay up in her room once she gets there, but what is she really going to do? She could continue to mix for a little while, using the little battery-life her laptop has left. The clock on her phone tells her it's just past eleven, so she could just slip into her bed and pray that no one cares enough to come looking. She also knows that won't be the case.

She places her phone flashlight-up so that she can have a little bit of light, and begins pulling the duvets from her bed. Along with some pillows. Beca's actually near to suffocating in her attempt to carry all bed-related articles at once. And then, she hears the creaking of someone heading up to her room.

"It's me!" Chloe announces, the moment before she appears at the top. "I've been sent to spy on you."

Beca's not surprised in the slightest. "Oh yeah?" It's a bit muffled through the blankets. She hears Chloe chuckle.

"Yeah. Need some help with that?"

"Maybe."

She can just see Chloe approach her from over the mountain of blankets. Smiling, the girl reaches out and relieves Beca of her pillows, piling them up in her arms. "There." She says after a moment, raising her brows at her. "Better?"

"A little." Beca shuffles to hook her fingers around the phone on her night table. "A bit hurt in your guys' lack of trust in me. But." She puts as much melancholy int her next sigh as she can muster, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I guess I haven't paid my dues yet."

Chloe hums, not falling for it the slightest. "Poor Beca." She simpers, turning away and throwing a coy smirk over her shoulder. "Tell me another sad story,"

Pulling her lip between her teeth, Beca hikes her mountain of blankets higher to keep Chloe from seeing her attempt to stop herself from grinning. "They're trying to get me in a confined space," Chloe pauses in her retreat near the stairs, quirking a brow. Even when the only light in the room is hitting the ceiling, she can see that playful twinkle behind Chloe's brilliant blues. "With _you_." She pours as much disgust as possible into those next two words, but can't stop the way her smile breaks out. Burying it in the blankets, Beca prays the redhaired girl can't notice.

The girl in question's mouth drops open in feigned outrage, but with a real and sincere delight that Beca could spot from a mile away. "Beca Mitchell," Chloe's voice drops a warning octave, and she back-pedals in her direction. "If I'm not mistaken," Chloe rests her cheek against the top-most pillow on her tower as she returns, giving Beca a mischievous kind of once-over. "I've been told you should feel lucky. Apparently, Amy would give her left breast to be in your position." And lifts it again when the bundle of pillows in her arms bumps against Beca's blanket tower. Truthfully, she hadn't quite noticed how close Chloe had gotten. She'd been too busy watching the fleck of light grow larger in Chloe's eyes.

When this realization dawns on her, Beca blinks, leaning backwards slightly. She can't get very far, though. Her calves are still bumping against her bed. "Oh." She mumbles, rapidly trying to think up an appropriate response. "That's, um. That's-"

Narrowing her eyes, Chloe's lips pull into a smug grin. "What?" The girl whispers. "Cat got your tongue?" And then she winks, pulling away again and cocking her head to the side.

Beca can practically hear the fuse short-circuit somewhere in her brain, and then boot back up. She lets out the breath she hadn't realized had been quietly suffocating her. The first option that appears in her mind is to say _something_ has got her tongue, try to act as coy as Chloe is, but she just as quickly realizes that's maybe not the best place to go. Because Chloe loves flirting. And Beca doesn't think she would be able to keep up.

Not that it's flirting, she reminds herself half a second later. They aren't flirting. This is their kind of playful banter, and it buzzes Beca happily- she should be glad that she has this level of comfort with someone.

"Not exactly." Is her carefully- as carefully calculated as she can be at the moment- response. Or at least she likes to think it is.

Chloe lets out a lilting hum, prancing her way back towards the top of the banister. "But really though, what are you doing?"

Quickly readjusting her grip on her blankets before pulling herself in Chloe's direction, she blinks. "About?"

"Are you joining me?"

Beca blows the air out of her cheeks, toeing the carpet with her foot for a moment before dragging herself a step forward. "You're asking me like I have a choice."

Chloe looks at her over her shoulder. A lock of ginger hair falls in front of her face, but she blinks around it. "Of course you have a choice, Bec." She says it softer this time, more sincere. As Beca falls in behind her, Chloe moves to start descending the stairs, and she thinks for a second that she might be looking at her way out. "I believe the options were me, or Amy." But it was too good to be true, obviously.

"My God," She mutters, plunking heavily down each step after Chloe. "The group of you are insufferable."

" _Boo_ ," Chloe sighs, reaching the bottom step and pushing off down the hallway. " _hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo_."

"What are you, an owl?"

"Only if you want me to be." And even in the dark, Beca can see the tongue dart out mockingly in her direction. Her will is already feeling weak.

"If," She finally says sharply, "I have to choose, I'll take you over Amy."

Chloe turns, dropping down the first step of the next staircase. "Well, I'm glad you've finally sucked it up and picked one. Was it really that hard?"

The choice _wasn't_ hard, actually. But she will never, _ever_ , admit that to Chloe. She will stand on her stubborn resolve instead, and not dare dignify that with an answer. Chloe's like a dog with a bone when it comes to those kinds of things.

They make it to the bottom of the stairs without Chloe goading her much farther, although she is coerced into publicly making her final choice known to the group. One in which she is still trying to think her way out of. She's got a few ideas in mind, but she can bide her time. However, the group of Bellas are quick to pounce on the pillows and quilts gathered, and Beca feels a little bit choked, considering they _are_ hers, and somehow she only managed to get her hands on a single pillow. The rest of her bed-set somehow ended up distributed among the others.

She had planned on waiting for everyone to eventually fall asleep; after conversations ranging everywhere from Bellas to Ashley's grandmother's chili recipe- to, God forbid- Stacie's sexpert tips, all managed to take place, Beca was finding it more and more difficult to keep her eyes open long enough to wait them out. Before passing out halfway on the beanbag chair- currently occupied by Cynthia Rose- Beca eventually excused herself to the washroom. Going through her nightly routine was a tad more challenging in the dark, but she managed to brush her teeth and wash her face with mild slip-ups. The cold water helped sober her sleep-addled brain a bit, but her eyes were still burning as she returned to the living room, still lit by a warm glow from their strange amount of candles.

"And then I told him," Amy, Beca's found, tends to get louder the more tired she gets- before she crashes all together. She's practically yelling. And Beca catches one of Jessica's sleepy eyes barely opening, before the girl rolls in her sleeping bag, turning herself away from the noise. "that he can go lay with the dingos in the back yard if he wasn't happy,"

Tiptoeing around various body parts spewed out under sleeping bags, by some miracle, she manages to make it back to her spot without stamping on anyone.

She still avoids slipping into the actual sleeping bag- her quiet objection- but lays down on top of the bag, angling her face away from Lily's feet, even if they were covered. Chloe, with her knees tucked to her chest, glances over at her before returning her attention to Amy's tale. One in which Beca has already decided she will tune out. Half of the girls in the room were mostly asleep, and those who were still awake were puffy-eyed and groggy. Beca doesn't dare check what time it is. But she figures it won't be long now until they're all asleep or too tired to argue with her, and she can peacefully pluck her quilt from atop of the heap of sleeping bags and make her way back to her own mattress.

Rolling her head, Beca squints out the window; snow was still falling. She watches it idly, waiting for the conversation to die off.

* * *

"Bec."

There's a feather-light touch on her chin, and she just barely feels it. A deep crease forms between her brows, and she pulls her arm up to cover her face.

"Beca."

A firmer one this time, dropping to her shoulder and lightly squeezing. Peeling open one eye, Beca blinks against the darkness that finds her. She must have dozed off without noticing. But in the moment it takes for her eyes to adjust, she sees Chloe, leaning over her. Beca let's out a bit of a grunt as she attempts to sit up.

"Sleepy-head."

It sort of travels through her ears slowly, like molasses. "Yeah." Beca says dumbly. "I'm tired."

The other girl's eyes crinkle a few moments before her mouth stretches open in a smile, pearly whites glowing in the darkness. "Well, why don't you-"

Without really thinking, Beca pushes herself to her feet, staggering a bit. She feels drunk; three or four tequila shots in. Blinking furiously, Chloe watches as Beca attempts to right herself before she falls on another Bella. In aid, Chloe reaches up, wrapping fingers around her wrist lightly, tugging her back downwards. Beca resists. "Bed." She mumbles, the foggy-layouts of her scheme coming back to her.

Twisting her lips up at her, Chloe gets to her own two feet, just as Amy's snoring chimes in. "Here," The girl walks onto the carpet, off of the sleeping bag they were meant to share. One hand relinquishes it's soft grip around her wrist, only to come back and prod just as gently on Beca's lower back, urging her a few steps to her right. Chloe kneels back down, unzipping the top of the bag and fluffing the material a bit. "Scoot in."

She inhales sharply, ready to come up with some whispered excuse, but Chloe beats her to it.

"I'll go to my own bed, it's okay, Becs. You've got no blankets up there anyway."

Beca's eyes flicker over to the duvet sprawled across the tops of girls, realizing she almost forgot a quintessential part of her plan. For a split second, she wants to argue for the sake of arguing, before it occurs to her that Chloe's not allowed to do that if she couldn't. "What? No,"

"Come on," The girl urges. "you're asleep on your feet."

"You can't leave if I can't." Even in her current state of mind, she inwardly cringes at how much it sounds like a whine.

She can see the smile on Choe's face even as the girl pulls her lip into her mouth, working it over. "Okay." She says after a moment, and even in her state, Beca can hear the sigh of defeat that's very _un-Chloe-like_ as she says it. "If you insist." Her eyes find their way back to Beca's, and she emphasizes her grip on the bag more, shaking it lightly. "Now, get in, then."

Truly weighing the options back in forth in her mind, Beca comes to the conclusion that really, she's honestly too tired to care. She lowers herself back down, slipping into the sleeping bag and pressing herself to the far right of the space. It's a bit of a process for Chloe to wedge herself in, but once they're both situated, Beca is a bit surprised in the amount of room left. It's not a lot, but they aren't completely pressed against one another, like she was expecting. But she can feel Chloe's arms against her back, feel every small movement she makes. Her knee, her feet, mindlessly trying to get comfortable in their confines. Beca works on tuning out the snoring. This time, though, it's a bit more difficult once Jessica's was added to the mixture.

"Why," Beca presses into the sleeping bag. "do any of you find this fun?"

She can just barely hear Chloe chuckle, feel it against her body. "Oh," Can feel her nose bump against her shoulder blade the second before she feels her smile. "you are _such_ a grump."

"This is awful."

" _Shhh_ ," Chloe hushes, and Beca can feel a chaste kiss pressed into said shoulder blade before the girl pulls away. Odd, Beca thinks. But _not_ unlike Chloe. "Go to sleep."

"I'm trying, thank you." She doesn't think she's barked a whisper like that, maybe ever. It's sharper than she intended, but it doesn't phase Chloe. All it causes is more subdued laughter shaking the sleeping bag.

"Well then stop talking, dummy."

Letting out an unhappy huff, Beca fidgets in the bag for another few moments; and Chloe presses herself into the far side of the fabric, allowing Beca more room to work with. When she's finally satisfied with the placement of all of her limbs, Beca lets herself go limp. Chloe stops straining against the bag and settles in somewhere behind her.

Or, not somewhere. Directly behind her, because that's really all there is. Beca can still feel Chloe's arm bracketed against her back, her fingers resting _just_ against her shoulder blade, like she's holding back. Being tentative. Trying to allow Beca space because she's Chloe, and she's acutely aware of Beca's bubble, and just how big it is, even if she often makes room for said girl to be in it.

It's not unlike they haven't slept in the same bed before. They do- and surprisingly often, but God knows she'll never tell Amy just how often. Not that Amy is keen on getting Beca for quality bed-time, but Beca just knows she'd be butthurt for some reason or another if she felt left out. But yeah. She and Chloe share a bed sometimes. They shared a bed just the other night when Beca had an, admittedly, embarrassing amount to drink thanks to the open bar; only to feel the spindly legs of a spider crawling up her calf once they got to their hotel room.

She was once determinedly against sleepovers in which sharing a bed would be involved. She was never a sleepovers kind of girl, period. Or, actually, if she's going to be entirely specific, she was never really someone who had people knocking down her door for a sleepover, but that was fine with her. That's changed. Almost all of it. She's being- for all intents and purposes- forced into a sleeping bag, in a sleepover, at her sorority house, with her acapella sisters. She's basically unrecognizable to her past self. And though Beca still knows she'd be wary, and far more opposed if she was to be wedged in against Amy, or a few of her less-well-known Bellas, she knows she'd be uncomfortable. Nothing at all against Ashley or Flo or Lily- well, she just wouldn't want to sleep in the same bed with Lily, anyway- they just aren't as close.

Chloe makes the cut.

She's about the only one who does.

Maybe it's because she just knows how to be.

"Chloe," It's barely a whisper, but Beca lifts her head slightly to keep the sound from muffling. Chloe hums, half-aware. Beca twists her lips for a moment, contemplating. Feeling the arm pressed into her back. "You can't be comfortable."

There's a pregnant pause. But Chloe's next response is somewhat more thoughtful, roused. Like she'd considered it for a moment. "I'm okay."

And it's good that she's so polite. That the Beale parents had somehow managed to raise someone so considerate, and patient. Beca can appreciate that Chloe plays it safe, that she tiptoes on lines, and will only occasionally cross them when the time is _absolutely_ appropriate. But she doesn't really need to tiptoe, not all the time. Beca trusts her, and she should know this. After all, she isn't made of glass. She's not some breakable thing that needs to always be approached with caution- despite her, very rare, emotional upheaval.

So, with a sigh that's half-annoyed, and just half-exhausted, she moves her arm. Reaching back to grab the one of Chloe's that's awkwardly resting against her, she haphazardly throws it over her body. Around the drop of her waist into a position that, honestly, is much more accommodating for the two of them, she thinks, as she kind of traps Chloe's arm against her when she rests the elbow of her own arm back over top of it. And there's silence.

For a few seconds, anyway.

"Bec-" The start of that word is dripping with the kind of tone that one would use when addressing a puppy, or a toddler, or something else that requires that sort of coo.

"No." She cuts Chloe off before she can be subject to anymore of it. "We are not cuddling." She addresses stubbornly. Despite the fact that she knows Chloe cuddles, and that they probably would have ended up like this by morning whether she initiated it or not. "This is just what's best for both of us."

It's a few more seconds, before she can feel Chloe's long exhale against the skin of her neck, and her arm is gripping Beca's waist a bit more firmly as she, indeed, snuggles in. "Okay." She says it like she doesn't believe a word of it.

And she's right. It's _so_ cuddling, and Beca knows it.

As she eventually feels Chloe's breathing even out, she soon follows suit. Telling herself that Jesse is wrong.

This is just them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for the continued reviews and support from everyone! They make my day. And thanks a tonne for sticking with me!**

* * *

One of the first things that Beca determines in the morning is that she _definitely_ doesn't have as many knots in her neck as she expected sleeping on the floor would warrant. Which is nice.

It's also not lost on her, however, that there is a particularly sweaty arm wrapped around her midrift, and her sleep-slobber had pasted a lock of hair against her face, which is totally disgusting. She feels like she'd just spent the last few hours in a steam room. Even her eyelids kind of stick together when she tries to open them, and she sort of swivels her neck as much as she can to take in her surroundings.

It's not entirely light out yet, which must mean it's pretty early. But there are a few discarded sleeping bags strewn around the floor, where she imagines a few other Bellas must have woken up and decided that they'd participated in the sleepover situation enough to relocate themselves in the morning. Amy, Stacie, and Lily are still situated here in the living room, however.

And Chloe.

With said sweaty appendage strewn across her.

But if the other Bellas are allowed to jump ship, Beca is absolutely not abiding by the rule that she must stay.

Exhaling through her nose, Beca carefully wriggles her hand down the sleeping bag until she reaches Chloe's arm, wrapping her fingers around the lithe wrist and, awkwardly trying to remove it from her person. A task proved more difficult than she first thought it would be. Chloe's dead weight was like a vicegrip and Beca has never boasted about her upper body strength. She sort of manages to loosen it as she pushes though, trying to brush Chloe's arm off of her. Through her sleep, Chloe must sort of sense the movement, because there's a deep huff of an inhale followed by a grunt. Beca freezes. She'd kind of feel like an ass waking Chloe up, which is stupid because she knows that Chloe could still probably sleep like a baby somewhere in the middle of the woods, but still.

She goes over the choreo they'd recently gotten down in her head a few times. Wonders if they're going to need to do another one of those fundraiser mixers for one of the frat houses again, now that they're out of actual tour gigs to give the Bellas some extra funds. They haven't had to do one of those since their _'Barnyard Explosion_ ' freshman year; and that memory alone is enough to make Beca cringe and not want to proceed in _anything_ that embarrassing ever again. However, she remembers that it was also right before Chloe had confessed her nodes diagnosis; though the imminent threat of never being able to sing again lingered near for Chloe, Beca could admire her determination. And she remembers that portion of the day fondly; Amy's brash and completely inappropriate response, and even Aubrey's quick concern.

It was the first time Beca's really felt love and connection for the group as an entirety. Though, she's never admitted out loud. The bunch of nerds didn't need to know that; they'd get mushy or something.

After what must be a few minutes of silent contemplation, she winces before attempting to detach Chloe from her once more. Chloe grunts in her sleep again as Beca tries to push the girl's hand past her hip and off of her, and Beca tries to weigh in whether or not she should just do it fast, like a Bandaid.

"Becs," Chloe murmurs, softly, just above a whisper. She can hear the smirk in her voice, though, and Beca frowns. "Where are you taking me?" She sounds happy to be along for the ride- teasing- looking for a reaction.

"Turn it off, perve." She mutters back, deciding that since Chloe was awake already, she'd might as well just finish shoving the girl's arm back into her _own_ personal space, and out of Beca's. Though in the confines of this sleeping bag, the line was incredibly blurred as to where who's starts and who's ends. "I'm going to bed."

There's a beat, in which Beca sort of wiggles her way farther out of the bag, silently reveling in the cool air that meets her outside of the bag. "I can't turn it off." Chloe finally answers, still with the same badgering lilt to her voice, though her next words are spoken with an exaggerated pout. "Not by myself." Beca steels herself, glancing at Chloe for the first time over her shoulder to make sure that the girl sees her roll her eyes. Chloe's still laying, with her head rested in the crook of one arm and the other- the one Beca had thrown from her- brought up and planted flat against the bottom of the sleeping bag. Her red hair tousled and messy and her eyes were still a little puffy, but the longer Beca looked at her, a dopey kind of smile stretched across her face, and Beca just knew something was coming. Chloe raises her eyebrows at her earnestly. "Wanna know where my off switch is?"

"Oh my God." It's still a whisper, but there's a bit of an effort to keep it at that level.

"I'll give you a hint- it's right next to the _on_ switch."

" _And_ ," Beca pushes herself all the way out of the sleeping bag. "That's my cue." Chloe giggles to herself, nestling herself in against the sleeping bag once more without a word. Beca collects the few blankets and pillows of hers that hadn't been Shanghai'd by the other Bellas, and tiptoes her way back up to her room.

* * *

The next time she wakes, it's at a more respectable time, in her opinion. The snow had stopped falling, but when she pulls the curtains back on the one window next to her bed, she squints against the brightness of the world greeting her, and groans about the size of the snowdrifts out there.

The city crews must have been working all night, because the power had returned, even if the snowplows hadn't quite made their way to Barden yet. It takes the better part of a half an hour to psych herself up and ask her boss if he expected her in, or if she could perhaps suggest that she may not be able to make it in, in lieu of the snowfall. But when she finally composes the email- takes another five minutes before convincing herself to hit send- she slams the lid down of her laptop with a bit more brute force than necessary, and a bubble in her chest that feels both like anxiety and relief.

And then she lays in bed, still trying to improve her overall rest. At some point close to noon, Amy finally staggers up the stairs; Beca hears her coming, and greets her as she gets to the top. "When'd you sneak back up here, Shortstack?"

"This morning," Beca says truthfully, knowing full well that she would berate her if it was any other time. "Early."

Amy rubs at the sleep in the corner of her eye, nods, grunts as she slumps back to her bed, and mumbles something mostly incoherent about her spine and the Australian outback. When her snores signify her consciousness, and Beca's end of peace and quiet, she unplugs her laptop and tucks it under her arm, making her way back down the staircase.

The Bellas house is quiet. Like the snow that was pressing on the building from the sides provided extra insulation, absorbed all sound. Sure, she could hear the muffled, quiet voices from the TV in Flo's room when she passes, and a shower running when she passes the bathroom. But there's a thick silence, it seems like. And when she glances out the window and sees that blinding white again, she frowns. It reminds her a little too much of her adolescence at her mother's.

With that thought in mind, she halts, one foot hovering thoughtfully over the top step of the second staircase, before she wheels and returns to her bedroom. She snatches up her headphones, curses when she bumps her toe into the corner of her desk in her retreat, and steals a look in Amy's direction; fearing the outburst might have woken her. But it hadn't, so she relaxes, and continues on her venture downstairs. By the time she makes it to the living room- mostly cleaned, but still a little bit haphazard- she'd booted up her laptop and had her headphones fastened snugly around her head. With a sigh, she plops down on the far end of the couch and pulls a leftover pillow across her lap, and opens her mixing program. She doesn't even want to think about whether or not Sammy has read her email yet.

As usual, she obsesses over the demo of the last mix for the Bellas she'd done. Tweaking. Listening over and over, until Natalia Kills and Skrillex sound like robots in her ears and she has to open up a fresh program for a new start. She stares. Does nothing. Opens up the mix she'd been working on last night when Chloe had entered and they had their bizarre sing-off session. The intricacies of which Beca wouldn't like to think too deeply into, due to the fact that the second her mind skirts around Chloe lately, she hears Jesse. Which isn't cool. Because Chloe is her friend, and there's something wrong when she can't consider talking or thinking about her without seeing Jesse's annoying puppy-pout in the forefront of her mind.

And with that, Beca grunts and closes her laptop, slipping the headphones off of her head and around her neck with a haughty huff, before there's movement in her peripheral vision that catches her attention.

Stacie stands there, eyebrows raised curiously, overflowing laundry basket clasped in her hands. "Alright, Becs?" She asks after a pause that was spent entirely with them staring at each other, even though Beca had been embarrassed about being caught in the middle of a temper tantrum.

And no, she's not alright, she's annoyed to no end, actually. There's not an idea in her head about how to work around the situation that didn't include just breaking up with Jesse. And that idea in itself was both unappealing yet liberating. She's not entirely sure how to proceed, because in all honesty, she'd never had to break up with anyone because there hadn't ever been anyone in her life before Jesse that she'd officially ' _dated_ '. And she'd never been one to talk things out with the gals, because having a close-knit group of friends was _also_ something Beca had never experienced before Barden. Compartmentalizing was generally more of her forte in her youth. She wasn't very good at it, but it was just how she worked things out. The problem is that, compartmentalizing is just getting harder for her as she grows.

Beca can feel her mouth open and close a few times; battling the urge to ask Stacie for advice. It's new ground. Chloe was usually the person she'd open up to, or occasionally Amy. But in this situation, Chloe doesn't seem right and Amy had never been the best when it comes to relationship advice; moreso she was a great confidence booster, even if it was often done in bizarre ways.

But, she supposes, if anyone would know relationship advice, it would be Stacie.

"No?" It comes out uncertain and squeaky, and she purses her lips in a thin line as she takes a deep breath. Stacie cocks her head to the side, taking a few small steps closer to her. "I mean," Beca taps her fingers against the top of her computer, trying to string the words together in a sentence to say out loud. "I just..." Stacie gently places the laundry basket on top of the tabletop, before crossing the room to sit in the loveseat, legs crossed and hands planted firmly on top of her knee. Beca is immediately struck by how much she looks like a therapist- all that was needed to complete the image would be a pair of glasses. "When do you know it's time to break up with someone?" It leaves her in a rush, and she averts her eyes for a moment after she says it.

Stacie hums. "Ah, boy trouble."

"Well," Reproachfully, she returns her gaze at the other girl. "Sort of."

Stacie clucks her tongue. "You can tell Aunt Stace." She urges softly, but not without making an arguably comedic pause, reaching forward and patting Beca on the knee in a motherly fashion. It only furthers her sense of how out-of-the-box this interaction is, on her part, at least. Stacie, on the other hand, Beca figures would sit down with a complete stranger to give them romantic advice. It's one of the things that she and Chloe have in common. "Would you like tea? Do we need tea? Wine? Vodka? I can make tea."

Surprised at the sudden shift, Beca raises her hands. "No, no thank you." Stacie just nods her understanding, leaning back slightly in her seat. Awkwardly, Beca folds and unfolds her hands. She may as well just spit it out. "I just- I mean, like, I _like_ Jesse. He's great. He's been a good, fine boyfriend." The need to clarify this is strong for her, because it's true and she knows it- that's part of the reason why it's eating her up. "But I just don't know if he... if we, if we're working anymore, you know?" Stacie just hums again, narrowing her eyes slightly as a sign of her contemplation. "I thought it was just a rough patch, like, all relationships have rough patches right? But it just... we haven't really progressed, I don't think. I don't know. It's weird, dude."

"Well," The other girl says it with an exhale, running the palms of her hands over the fabric of her jeans. "In my experience," Beca takes a moment to appreciate the fact that she can pretty much be confident in Stacie's knowledge on the subject. "It's time to break it off with a partner when it _honestly_ just doesn't feel like it's worth the effort. Simple as that." She raises her hands into the air in a partial-shrug, and suddenly Beca isn't quite so certain in her choices.

"Yeah, but,"

"But nothing," Stacie interrupts. "I'm not saying that doesn't mean they- _Jesse_ \- aren't good people, but listen to me child,"

"Older than you, actually, by like two weeks,"

Stacie just raises her voice. "If you feel drained-" Subsequently, Beca shushes her, immediately checking over her shoulders to make sure there were no other Bellas lurking. "If it's bringing you down, if it's making you _feel_ down," The girl pauses, quirking a brow as though challenging Beca to say something. She just levels Stacie with an exasperated glare. "Then it's not the end of the world to just break it off. If he's your friend, if he wants to be mature about it, he will still be there afterwards. And if it's right, then, you can always try it again."

She could be right.

She probably is, and Beca knows it, but the stubborn part of her is still screaming at her various different " _but Jesse_ ," scenarios. _But Jesse and I were so good. But Jesse is different. But Jesse and I have so much history. But Jesse is the first guy I've ever felt happy with._

She can't just pretend Stacie doesn't know what she's talking about though, because it makes sense. Jesse should be a bigger person, right? _If_ Beca were to breakup with him.

She's too busy over-analyzing it to really pay any attention to Stacie as she stands, sighs, picks her laundry basket up, and then when she pats Beca reassuringly on the head, it jolts her out of her thoughts. "Think about it, DJ B."

* * *

She does. For the next three hours she agonizes over it. Even after she sees Sammy's response- still calling her Reggie, but telling her that he'll see her in the office tomorrow- she returns to her bedroom and buries herself in her blankets for a while. Amy had woken up at one point, they'd had a short conversation that didn't do much to distract her, and then the Tasmanian had gotten a text message and not so subtly, she was off to get a " _smoothie"._ By now, Beca knew it was code for seeing Bumper.

Stacie is right.

She should breakup with Jesse.

It's something she's known for a while. She should do it. Procrastinating, however, is a larger talent of hers than actually, you know, facing anything she doesn't want to deal with. Like Jesse's teary-eyed reaction or his anger, or the general sensation that she might be making a mistake, even if she knows deep down that it's right. Like she somehow failed him. Like somehow she's failed everyone, when her dad inevitably asks her why Jesse hasn't been attending family events anymore.

Mixing does absolutely nothing to help her work through it. She's in a rut. Mindlessly scrolling through Twitter does nothing, either, especially not when she sees that Amazonian German from DSM boasting about their acapella prowess, it just actually ends up stressing Beca more. In times like this, Chloe was usually her go-to, because she's great with distraction, but considering she's an unknowing part of Beca's problem, she nixes that idea. And with Chloe off the table, Beca feels grumpy and stumped. Lying, staring at the ceiling, with her phone sitting face-down on her chest. Because as much as the sudden, compelling need to break up with Jesse motivates her; there is no way she's trekking through all of that snow to do it.

A growling stomach is what alerts Beca to what time it really is. She'd been deep in Spotify looking for new artists, but when she pulls the blinds back and sees the night staring back at her- though muted and blue from all of the snow- she realizes that she definitely, probably, needs to eat something.

* * *

A small voice, one that Beca barely hears until she's halfway through the empty living room on her fast track to the kitchen. She stops, because, though the Bellas house affinity with a constant singing, Beca is always going to feel like walking in on someone singing is going to be embarrassing for them. Even if that person is Chloe. And she knows that Chloe couldn't care less. Naked singing, hello?

" _Spin around now_  
 _Can you hear me?_  
 _Am I still buzzing in my sleep?_  
 _What does it feel like to shine between everything?_ "

Beca clears her throat subtly as she turns into the kitchen. "Wow," She remarks, smirking as she slides over to one of the island stools. "that sounds like another angsty song from your youth?"

Chloe glances at her from over her shoulder; where she's standing over the stove stirring a pot. It smells good. But she's smiling, small and quietly amused. "You just missed Stacie and CR, they were keeping me company in here."

"Well, now you have me." Chloe moves away from the pot, back towards the cutting board set on the counter to her left. The girl hums, and Beca watches for a moment as she begins slicing up a green bell pepper. "What are you making, anyway? Smells good."

Chloe pauses her chopping in order to send Beca another wry look over her shoulder. She puts on a thick Southern accent when she speaks her next few words. "Miss Mitchell, we is makin' gumbo."

Beca snorts. "Oh my God. Where are we, the bayou?"

"Mmhmm." Chloe plops the pieces of pepper, along with some garlic and onion, into the pot. "I lived in Louisiana for almost two years, of course I learned how to make gumbo."

"That's..." She has to jostle her memory for a moment, taken momentarily off guard by this information. Chloe must have told her that at some point. It takes a long, drawn out, befuddled second to find a strand of memory, but it's lodged in there, vaguely. "fair."

"Yeah, you hungry? You've been holed up in your room for a while," She gives her a crooked grin. "I was starting to think I'd have to go check for a pulse up there."

Beca rolls her eyes, lifting her hands up to her shoulders in her defense. "Hey, well, I'm down here now, aren't I?"

Chloe groans. "I guess you are, aren't you?" She stirs the contents, before putting the lid atop and setting the temperature to a simmer. "It'll be about twenty minutes."

"You're going to share your gumbo?"

The redhaired girl slides onto the stool next to her, propping her elbow up against the countertop and resting her head in her hand. " _I_ know how to share my food." And she stares at Beca, unfalteringly, silently daring her to argue. And she must see the small combustion of a flame behind her eyes, because her smirk pulls even wider, and she closes one eye in a wink. Of course Beca remembers the Moon Wok incident from last month; the one in which she was worried Chloe was going to assault her.

"Yeah," It comes out a bit sharply. "Okay." Chloe giggles.

The air between them grows for a moment. Comfortable, quiet. It's disrupted by Beca's stomach growling at her again, and she groans, throwing her head dramatically around on her shoulders. She whines. Chloe is unimpressed. "It's not my fault," Giving Beca a light shove, she leans back in her stool. "What were you doing up there, anyways?"

"Cleaning." Moping.

Two very skeptical eyebrows raise in response. " _Cleaning_?"

"Amy's not going to do it."

"I guess. I could have helped you organize, you know," Hopping off of the stool, Chloe makes her way towards the pot on the stove. Lifting to top, she begins to give it a little stir. "I wasn't doing anything, and I like to help."

Classic Chloe. All surprised she hadn't been asked to help, the thought makes Beca grin. Which is kind of dorky, she realizes, so she presses the back of her hand against her mouth to hide it. "Oh, you know," She sighs after taking a moment to collect herself. Chloe gently places the lid back atop of the pot, spinning around with the spatula still in hand. "sometimes I've got to pull up my socks, do stuff on my own. I don't deliver coffees all day and learn nothing,"

"No?" Tossing the spatula onto the counter, Chloe smooths out the front of her pyjama shirt nonchalantly. "That's funny," She doesn't look up as she says it, "I could have sworn you were useless."

Indignant, Beca can't catch her jaw before she drops it. Chloe's only joking, obviously, by the way she peeks up at Beca from under her eyelashes, a big shit-eating grin on her face. Beca uses the next few moments spent sputtering while Chloe laughs to find her tongue. "Well that's rude."

Coming up to the corner of the counter, Chloe leans in again on her elbows- so close, that Beca has to jerk her head back. "I call 'em as I see 'em, Mitchell."

"You're such a little bully," She can't keep a straight face, though. Not while looking at that smile. "Did you get picked on one too many _kick-a-ginger-day's?_ " Chloe's composure cracks, just a little. One microsecond of a smile; lip pulling ever so slightly on the left side of her mouth, but she straightens herself, jutting said lip out in an exaggerated pout instead. A solemn nod. All for show. Snorting, Beca reaches forwards; snatching up the hand towel some other unorganized Bella must have discarded there earlier. Her money's on Amy, or Stacie. That doesn't matter. But her immediate impulse is to flick it in Chloe's direction.

She screams.

Well, yelps. And jumps backwards with a wide grin that's a mixture of disbelief and delight, like she's wondering how Beca could ever have the gall to do such a thing. "Don't snap towels at me, Beca," But Chloe's laughter lets her know that she's not mad, not at all. "I had a very traumatic childhood!" It's a look that makes her heart start beating faster, for some reason. Beca can feel it, hammering steadily against her ribs.

She just feels it, for a moment. Staring. Before she scoffs again. "Okay." It's kind of like she can't think; otherwise, she'd like to believe she'd have a better quip to return with. As it stands, though- she doesn't.

Chloe pulls her jaw back together after a moment, but that same look shines in her eyes. And Beca's staring deep into them from across the counter space, she knows it, because she's waiting for them to give her any sign of action. Which is how she jumps to her feet the half a second before Chloe's lunging her way around the counter with a growl. "Come here, you brat!"

The hand towel is her first line of defense. Beca uses it to keep Chloe at bay; snapping it in her direction like some fruitless attempt to ward off a wild animal; in this particular situation, though, she's laughing. They both are. And Chloe's just as uselessly trying to fight her way around it; flailing arms that bat it away just as fast as Beca can snap it again. For a moment, Chloe's hand catches around the fabric and gives a firm tug in an attempt to disarm her, but Beca manages to slip it out from her. It's not until she's nearly cornered against the pantry that she snaps it again and this time, it makes contact with Chloe's thigh with an echoing sound of a whip that makes Beca cringe and immediately drop the defensive assault. Her mirror neurons can feel the sting in her own leg.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes quickly, probably sounding insincere in the way she hasn't gotten ahold of her snickering yet. "I'm sorry."

Chloe's still, but the imprint of the smile is against her face despite this, so Beca takes that as a good sign. Slowly, she lifts the hit leg up and down, as though testing whether or not it was still usable. Beca does feel bad- it'll probably welt. But she trusts that Chloe will know it's an accident.

And then she starts to laugh. Slowly, but with more heart coming into it, as she drops her head against her shoulders and lets it loll. "Oh my God," She mutters, lifting and lowering her leg again. Chloe's hysterics do nothing to help Beca tame her own, nor to slow her heartrate. "I hate you so much right now."

Beca half-heartedly apologizes once again. Chloe's eyes narrow, despite the hiccups still in her breaths, and she drops back to rest against the counter next to Beca. "That's gonna bruise."

Sideways, Chloe stares at her. "No? You think?"

Beca rolls her eyes, finally starting to catch her breath. It was a brief fight, but it had winded her. "Pretty sure I know,"

Chloe grunts, big blues not leaving Beca for a second. Though there had been weak scrutiny in them before, she looks about as winded as Beca feels now. "I better still be able to dance on that leg,"

"Oh, you'll live."

"If I don't?" Batting her lashes at Beca, Chloe's eyes search her now. She has a hard time figuring out what for, but looking away seems like it would be some kind of wrong. The realization of that strange feeling scatters her brain. Takes her off-track for a moment. One that's entirely too long, so she lets herself try speaking before it can get any stranger.

"I don't know if-"

Now, this takes her a second longer.

A couple.

Actually, Beca has a hard time making a lot of sense of anything. Maybe there just isn't a right thing to say, and that's why she couldn't think of anything, started talking only to fill the silence. Maybe Jesse was right. Was that always how Chloe looked at her? Did she really not ever think about it much before now?

They're _kissing_.

She, and Chloe. It takes a second for her to wrap her head around that. But when it comes to, slowly, it sort of feels like Beca's been dropped out of a plane at a mind-staggering altitude of thirty-five thousand feet- without a parachute- head first. Her world is upside down. _Fast_.

And she can't help but think about how it compares to Jesse. There's no scratch of stubble, is, bizarrely, what she notices first. Her lips are softer. She smells good- like the strawberry shower gel that Beca has had to borrow a few times when hers ran out. And she's not really sure how, among all other things, she notices the smell- but she does.

And it's chaste. Polite, almost. Lips that slant and move in all the right ways. Not missing a single step.

 _That_ ' _s_ the second she comes-to, all the way. Because with a jolt of shock, she realizes she's kissing back. That's the second everything begins spinning, and Beca's jerking her head back with so much force that it bumps against the cupboard.

Chloe's shocked. Somehow, Beca is able to take in enough information to realize that; notice it on her face, the way her mouth falls open in a tiny ' _o_ '. It's not what she expected. Not to see Chloe shocked- and that makes Beca wonder if Chloe even knew what she was about to do, or was doing.

Startled, Beca brings her hand up to her mouth; feeling around her lips. Amidst her freefall of confusion, she wonders if she'd just imagined the whole thing. She had been obsessing over it the last few days- whether or not Jesse was just being a giant, paranoid dickhead, or if he could be right- by some unknown act of God- that Chloe had been harboring things for her. Intimate things. Intimate _feelings_. Ones that Beca has absolutely no idea how to react to.

Chloe bites her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes dropping to the floor like a scolded eighth grader. Her hands are suddenly tucked behind her back and there's a flush crossing her cheeks- still nothing compared to her hair, or Beca's face, by the way it's burning up- and Beca knows it's real. She hadn't imagined it.

 _Fuck_.

"I've got to go."


	12. Chapter 12

**Adulting sucks. Sadly, this wait was for a filler chapter, but... well, you'll see. I loved hearing everyone's thoughts about last chapter. Thanks again, really, every review is worth it!  
**

* * *

"That's it, Em,"

Chloe observes as the younger, leggy Bella begins to grasp the concept of the skill of glowsticking. It was part of their new subset of practices- using various props to liven up their stage presence, and all. They had to keep challenging themselves, since they weren't allowed to perform at collegiate level anymore, and the Worlds weren't for another eight months- Chloe's not _even_ going to bring DSM into this. But they had to bring their A-Game.

Beca had outdone herself with this last mix of Natalia Kills and Skrillex, Chloe thinks. She hasn't had an opportunity to say it to her, however, because she's been avoiding her for the last forty-eight hours.

After Chloe's complete, monumental fuck-up in the kitchen.

Beca had pretty much sent trails smoke after her heels, the way she tore out of there. Chloe had stood there, in shock, cursing herself until she smelt her gumbo burning.

 _Fuck_.

"Fuck!" She'd hissed, moving it off of the heat. It was done. Finished.

She'd cleaned up, and took off at the same speed Beca had, straight for the bathroom. Running her hands under cold water, she had to think. Stop, _think_ , and breathe. From what Chloe can remember, she'd never let her desire get the better of her before; not with Tom, not with Andrew Garner, not with Eric Hoffman. Sure, Tom may have been in a relationship when Chloe had first realized she had a thing for him, but she'd never- _ever_ \- made any kind of advance toward him like the one she just made towards Beca in the kitchen.

She hadn't even thought she was going to do it. Her heart was just pumping _too_ fast, the emotions from love, and excitement as a result of their enthralling and ridiculous cloth battle, and even to the momentary anger after being whipped in the thigh- they were all fluctuating too much, and-

 _Damn_ _it_ , Aunt Flow. She should be getting a visit from her _any day_ now, that's why. But she had royally- _royally_ \- stepped in it.

Chloe should talk to her, she knows that. But she could only imagine Beca- and Chloe had spent a lot of time navigating walls and figuring out which ways in, and out, to know that Beca probably needs space right now. Chloe was out of line. She knows this. It was one thing that she's not even sure that her captain was even interested in return- or girls in general- but to add, Beca was dating Jesse. And as far as she can tell, the two may have been having trouble- and when this little... accident is dumped into the mixture, well. Chloe can just imagine Beca's nerves.

She should have said something. Talked about it, with Beca. Not just _jumped_ on her like that. But with Beca there, all winded and smirking, Chloe couldn't stop herself before she knew what she was doing.

With a groan, Chloe splashes her face with the cold water cupped in her palms, and hangs her head over the sink for a minute. What the hell is she going to do now?

Dropping her head against her shoulders, she peeks at herself in the mirror. Very unhappy with the girl she sees in her reflection.

"Stupid," She mutters, frowning. "why couldn't you just be an adult about it? You're an adult." She hasn't the first idea what she's going to do with herself.

But she knows someone who might. 

* * *

Chloe shuts her door, and locks it. She needs to be in her shame bubble right now.

She opts for the lower, less harsh lamp lighting rather than the ceiling light, and unearths her laptop from under the mountain of blankets she hadn't bothered to fix before the power went out last night. And then she rearranges; crawling under said blankets and balancing the laptop against her thighs, screen bent upwards to reflect her face. While it boots to life- old, and probably virus infected thing- she leans over towards her bedside table and pulls the drawer open, fishing out the pair of headphones with the built in microphone, and jams them into the jack when she finds them. It seems like eons before the thing is ready to go, and she navigates the apps until she finds the one she needs.

Crossing her fingers hopefully in one hand, and chewing the nail of her thumb on the other, she waits. Listens to the ringing through the headphones, praying to God that-

"Chloe?"

"Oh, thank God." She puffs, a small bit of anxiety leaving with her breath as she stares at that familiar, pixelated face on the screen. Usually, there was some forewarning- a _plan_ \- before she called, but this time, Chloe just wouldn't bear to wait.

Furrowing her brows, Aubrey leans closer to the screen. She's taken her contacts out for the night, and instead has those glasses perched on her nose that Chloe thinks makes her look a little bit like a grandma. An adorable, young grandma. "Is everything okay?" She's also wearing the raglan style 'Bellas' shirt Chloe had custom made for her when she found out that Aubrey would be graduating, but she would remain. A parting gift.

Well, one of many, that is. But it makes her smile. "Um, well, the Bellas house isn't burning down with me in it, and I don't have a terminal illness, so, you don't have to worry about that." Aubrey's face relaxes slightly; not that Chloe genuinely thinks those were two large concerns of hers, but the fact that she's still capable of cracking jokes and not sobbing her eyes out is generally a good sign.

"What's the matter, then?" The girl says it a little bit softer this time, settling against the backboard of her bed. "Why are you calling me at nearly ten o'clock, unannounced?"

"I'm a homewrecker." She blurts, dropping her head into her hands. Coming clean had to be done quickly.

Peeking through the slats of her fingers, Chloe agonizes waiting for Aubrey's reaction. Which is, surprised, albeit subdued. She can hear a little bit of a heavy exhale, almost a sigh, and then she rubs small circles at her temples. "What?"

Prying her own hands from her face, Chloe frowns into the screen. "Okay," She knows Aubrey will understand. Maybe not the Beca part- that had been a little secret kept only with herself, and more recently, Stacie. "say there's this _person_ ,"

"Uh-huh."

"and they've been in a relationship for... a while. And I kissed them,"

Now there's a complete sigh. " _Chloe_ ,"

"I know." Throwing her hands into the air, "I screwed up, I shouldn't have done it, I just couldn't help it. I didn't even think."

"Were you drunk?" The connection breaks momentarily, but Chloe knows what the girl asked. She shakes her head.

"No."

"When did this happen?"

"Just-" _now_. No, wait, that would narrow it down to the Bellas house. And the only Bella in the house that has been in a relationship for a while was Beca. If one wanted to broaden the options even more, both Amy and Stacie were in _something_ of a relationship but that, ultimately, doesn't really help her case. "a couple hours ago." Hell. She'd have to fess up eventually- but one thing at a time. She _hates_ lying.

Aubrey pushes the glasses up on her head to get at the bridge of her nose. She scratches it, sighs again, and then pinches it, squeezing her eyes shut. "Chloe,"

"I know." She repeats.

"What happened? And who?"

"We were just, like, playing around," Aubrey raises her eyebrows, to which Chloe clarifies " _not like that_ ," and then the blonde nods, waving for Chloe to continue. "and I just looked at them, didn't even _think_ \- next thing you know," She shrugs helplessly. "I'm kissing them. And then they wig out and leave,"

"Well, _yeah_ , Chloe- if they're in a relationship, I'd hope they'd wig out and leave."

"I'm aca-atrocious."

Aubrey tuts, pulling her blanket closer to her and shifting around slightly. "Now, Chloe," She says slowly, like speaking to a wounded, frightened animal on the side of the road. "don't start calling yourself aca-atrocious, you just... had a moment of very, _very_ horrible judgement."

She wants to curl into a ball, and die, or reflect for a few hours. "You could say that."

"Have you thought about apologizing?" Aubrey suggests flatly, eyeing the camera of her laptop with that kind of look that used to make the other Bellas squirm.

" _Well_ , yeah-"

"Oh, don't be like Beca," Aubrey sighs, and Chloe freezes with her mouth still open. "sitting on your pride and shelling away,"

"I'm not," She scoffs, finding humor in the way Aubrey has never quite, entirely, shaken her initial _Beca_ reaction. To the ex-captain, all she could still see were the ear piercings and back-talk. Rubbing at the corner of her eye with her thumb, Chloe shakes her head. " _shelling away_ , I wouldn't say-" as she brings her hand down, it catches against the cord of her headphone, and it snags away. Which, in turn, alerts her to a pounding at her bedroom door. Chloe stiffens, heart leaping to her throat for a moment at the thought of Beca having reflected, and then flared up like athlete's foot in July.

"Chloe! I know you're in there!" It's a sigh of relief, though, when she recognizes that voice immediately as not Beca.

"Who's that?" Aubrey's voice comes through the single earphone.

"I'm having a Paul-issue I need to discuss _pryamo seychas,_ Red- I don't care if you're masturbating," Another pounding of fists against wood, and Chloe sighs. "you can finish up later."

"It's Stacie," She tells Aubrey, contemplating how to deal with the girl currently assaulting her door. Aubrey's eyes widen.

"Let her in." She advises, and Chloe groans.

"No, she can't know."

"She can't-" The blonde breaks off in a gasp, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Chloe Beale did you _fraternize_ with Stacie's boyfriend?" And somehow, she gasps again, eyebrows nearly disappearing under the crown of blonde hair. "Stacie _has_ a boyfriend?"

"No, no, not Stacie's- and no, well- _kinda_. Not sure. But she can't know right now." She whispers it into the microphone of the headphone.

" _Hello_ , I'm going to kill you Chloe Beale," Stacie continues with a groan. "Come on, you're weirding me out with the door all locked," The handle jiggles.

"Hang on, Stace!" She shouts in attempt to pacify the girl.

"Let her in," Aubrey advises a second time. "I'll tell her that it's me having the issue,"

"Oh, yeah, like she'll buy that." She says dryly, Aubrey provides her with a tut of impatience.

"Just do it."

Sending one last pleading look in the direction of her computer, Chloe hopes for a change of heart from her best friend on the other side. No such luck. Just a continued look of dry challenge- the kind that Chloe had grown accustomed to her first senior year- follows her as she unplugs her headphones from the jack of her laptop and makes her way to her door. Stacie is still half-heartedly muttering threats of various severity on the other side when Chloe clicks the lock out of place and swings it open.

Stacie drops her head against her own shoulder, leveling her with a particularly mischievous look- albeit sideways. Before she can even begin berating her, Chloe interrupts. "Sorry, important talk with Aubs. I had my headphones in."

And then jade green eyes light up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. "Ooh, gossip?"

"Not quite," She steps aside to let the taller girl in, before shutting and locking the door behind her once again, just for good measure. "She's still on Skype, she asked me for..." Turning back around, Chloe watches as Stacie freezes in the path of her usual, lazy trek around the room. It's something, Chloe has noticed, both she and Beca do. The comparison makes her grin to herself. "your help." She finishes, regaining her momentum towards the bed.

And Stacie, facial expression suddenly, and rapidly, evolving into something that bears much closer to the smug look of satisfaction worn by cat's who caught the canary, shifts on spot. Attention completely falling from Chloe's dresser- where she was about to, again, routinely, uncap some hand moisturizer- and towards the laptop turned away from her on the bed. As if on cue, Aubrey yells her greeting.

"Well, well, well," Stacie cooes, drifting over from the dresser and crossing the few steps towards the bed. As Chloe gets comfortable, she can feel Stacie's added weight shift the mattress under her, bouncing the laptop slightly. " _The_ Aubrey Posen needs _my_ help?" And then Stacie's eyes flit to the screen, smoking with accomplishment, but that look dissolves just as quickly when she spots Aubrey. And then she squeals. "Oh my God, Aubs, those glasses?" She gasps, and Aubrey's mouth falls open in defense. "You look like an adorable grandma!"

Yet another reminder that she and Stacie are cut from the same cloth. One made of freedom and love. And that included freedom _with_ love. And then, not for the first time, Chloe thinks about how if her crush had only developed on Stacie instead, the two of them probably could had gotten this whole thing over with a long time ago. By now, the experimental phase would have, most likely, been long finished.

Things never really seem to be that easy, though.

Peeved, Aubrey's hand immediately flies up to her glasses, probing around them. "Okay, I've reconsidered. Chloe, make her leave." It's not entirely serious, she can tell, so she just shrugs. Stacie jumps to amend.

"No no, Aubrey. It's fine. It's cute. Like, adorable librarian." Aubrey scoffs and mutters something unintelligible. Stacie stretches out on the bed, laying on her belly and leaving her feet near Chloe's pillows- she doesn't mind, there's socks, that look relatively clean- and propping her elbows up against her bedspread so that she can cradle her head. "Tell me what's up. Aunt Stace is in the house."

There's a long exhale that can be heard through the speakers, before Aubrey's eyes search for the general direction of Chloe. And they hold for a moment. "Well," Aubrey starts, like a rehearsal. "I've kind of gotten myself into a bit of a situation."

Cheshire Cat grin forms on Stacie's face. "Aubs, getting into trouble?"

"Some may say." Another pointed look in Chloe's direction. "I think, however, that you may have useful insight into the problem. Even moreso than Chloe."

"It's true," She adds, giving Stacie a sidelong glance for effect. "I drew a blank."

The girl narrows her eyes, nodding along earnestly, before turning back to the screen. "Yes. Okay. Go."

Aubrey's mouth opens and closes for a moment, trying to articulate the words. For a moment, in that long, contemplative silence, Chloe thinks that Aubrey might point the finger right back at Chloe. Which wouldn't be the end of the world, Stacie could keep a secret, but for the sake of her dignity, she'd like to keep it on the down-low. In her moment of doubt, Chloe tries channeling all of her energy into telepathically communicating to her ex-captain, but something tells her that it doesn't work.

"I kissed a guy who was already in a relationship." She shrugs, and a warm wash of appreciation for Aubrey fills Chloe in the moment. The girl's not about tarnished reputations, but knows that the truth will come out eventually.

Stacie's mouth forms a small ' _o_ ' of surprise and delight. "And you knew?"

"Yes," Aubrey nods, once, briskly. "I was aware." From Stacie, there's a coo of pleasure that she's sure if borne from the drama of it all, and as Aubrey rehashes Chloe's situation- in her own terms, of course- Chloe tries her damndest to keep her poker face on. Stoic. Completely without blushing. She also spends the time carefully kicking herself about it all as she listens. It sounds even more ridiculous coming from someone else.

Which is saying a lot.

Because Chloe already thinks- _knows_ \- it was pretty ridiculous.

Especially considering all the times she had imagined it. Found her mind wandering in various times of the day, to which she usually chastised herself for- but a fact is a fact, and it's happened- when she catches on mid-daydream. In those circumstances, it was usually romantic and chaste, maybe a little bit emotional. In a few other fantasies, the kiss happens as a result of a few drinks and some kind of fervent, passionate moment.

And she just let that moment, that opportunity, slip away and be ruined for herself forever.

"And do you have any reason to believe this person is unhappy in their current relationship?" Stacie asks, once the recital has come to an end.

A small croak leaves the back of Aubrey's throat. "I'm not sure." She concludes on, sounding completely unsure of herself, and for a good reason. They hadn't really gotten that far. "I just need some advice on how to proceed."

"Like you want to proceed in your advances, or like, _how-do-you-live-your-life-now_ kind of thing?"

Both, Chloe thinks.

A single brow raises on Aubrey's face. " _How-do-I-live-my-life-now_ kind of thing."

Stacie hums, a sound that only comes across a little bit disheartened. "Well, if it were me, I'd just act like nothing ever happened."

Chloe blinks, thrown (and unsatisfied!) with that response. "Really?" She queries dryly, turning her attention to the brunette lounging next to her on her bed. Stacie raises her eyebrows.

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't make a big deal about it. I'd give all the cards to them." She turns back to the computer, to Aubrey, but Chloe lets the words flip around in her mind like the spin-cycle. Beca has the cards, she feels like this isn't breaking news. But the realization that she would have to do something with said cards-

A banging at the door makes her jump, and cuts Stacie off mid-sentence. It's Beca. Telepathy had gravitated the brunette right to Chloe's door this time.

"Ayo, Chloe?"

Except it's not.

"Stacie? You guys in there?"

On the screen, Aubrey questions _"Who's this now?"_ and Chloe gets to her feet in automatic response, but stops short.

"It's CR." She tells Aubrey, mostly, because she's pretty sure Stacie knows that voice.

"Let's let her in." Stacie hops to her feet, "I'm sure she'll have her two cents!"

"Oh, Stace!" Chloe calls, wincing internally as she watches the long-legged girl bound across the short distance towards the door, but she knows there's no stopping her. Throwing a helpless look at her computer screen, she watches as Aubrey levels her with yet another look that tells her that she's not happy that she'll have to go through the embarrassment of reciting the story again. But she knows that she will anyways, for her sake, and on the grounds that one day the truth will out. Chloe tries to communicate her gratitude with a look, and if the relenting sigh Aubrey returns is anything to go by, she got her message.

"Come in, CR," Stacie greets, stepping aside to let their fellow Bella into Chloe's bedroom.

"What're you guys doing in here?" She looks fresh from the shower, damp hair swept to the side and her skin is still flushed and glowing. It makes Chloe think about how much she could use a shower. She should have had one before calling Aubrey, but didn't want to risk being too late to catch her.

Casting another sideways look at the screen, Chloe clears her throat. "Helping Aubrey out." She offers simply. "What are you doing?"

Stacie settles back onto the mattress next to Chloe, and Cynthia Rose takes up residence perching next to the laptop with her feet still on the carpet. "Figured you were the girl to talk to about scheduling."

Chloe hums. "I am."

But CR is already leaning back to look into the computer screen, her face eclipsing the rest of the image of her and Stacie. "Hey Aubrey. Still crazy?" Aubrey frowns, and Cynthia Rose breaks into a grin. "I'm kidding, girl. What's up with you?"

"It's boy trouble." Aubrey replies shortly, fixing her glasses as surreptitiously as possible, as though she was expecting another remark. "Do you really wanna know?"

CR shrugs indifferently. "I got nowhere to be."

Aubrey opens her mouth to go into the next rendition, but Stacie holds up her finger with a quick " _wait_!"

"What?" Chloe asks, watching the girl fish her cellphone from within the depths of her cleavage and pull it out, her free hand still keeping a stiff finger held in the air. Aubrey mentions something about breast cancer. She doesn't answer. Silently, the crowd watches her thumb tap and navigate the screen, and when she's finished, she sets it aside with her opposite hand still up. Chloe narrows her eyes suspiciously, letting her gaze flicker over to CR, who was patient, and Aubrey, who was confused.

"What?" Aubrey echoes from within the screen. "What's happening? I can't hear."

"Cause no one is talking," Cynthia Rose says. "Stacie, what're you-?"

Chloe's phone vibrates softly against her nightstand, and she feels bafflement flutter up in her brain. Had Stacie caught on? Was this going to be the " _this is totally about you and Beca isn't it?_ " text?

Leaning over, she reaches for her phone and turns the screen on, reading the notification bubble as it appeared;

 **Stacie to Acabitches:** _Aubrey needs Bella sister help. Congregation in Chloe's room ASAP._

"Oh, Stace," Exasperation settles in her just as quickly. "No, I don't think we need-"

There's a knock on her door before it's being opened, revealing Amy from the other side. "Thank God," The Tasmanian huffs, lackadaisically bringing the straw of her smoothie to her mouth, and taking a long, startlingly noisy sip. "I just got home and Beca is being a real Kardashian."

Her heart twangs in her chest, but she furrows her brows. "Pardon?"

Amy raises her eyebrows from around her straw, like she was speaking to a simpleton. "Beca." She states again, slower this time, before moving forwards. From within the computer, Aubrey asks again what is happening, and Stacie seems to fill her in, but Chloe isn't really listening. "She must be PMS'ing. Real moody up there. Drama queen."

 _Crap_.

She glances down at her phone again, looking at that message to the groupchat, wondering if Beca would see through the fib, or if she would even show up. Chloe doubted it. She wouldn't be pressed to show up even on a good day.

Stacie waves it off. "Typical Beca. She can show up if she wants."

"I wouldn't count on it." Chloe mumbles, and Stacie sends her a quizzical look from under a raised brow. She shrugs. "Well, if she's grumpy. Maybe she _is_ PMS'ing."

Amy snorts. "She must be-"

A tentative knock on the door. "Hello?" Jessica's head appears the moment before her body. Ashley immediately afterwards, clad in furry cloud pajama pants and a shirt with a curiously large photo of a beta fish emblazoned on it.

"Is this really an emergency?" Ashley asks, squinting at the light of the room. "I was dozing off."

"Boys." Stacie examines her cuticle. "Make your choice." She sighs then, looking at the gathered girls and frowning deeply. "I should have asked someone to bring the pretzels."

"Hello?" Aubrey's voice is taut with annoyance. "Can someone tell me what's happening?"

Chloe leans forward, back into the camera's face. "Stacie invited the Bellas to come hear out the story." A tight smile. The kind that pleads the silent ' _help_ _me_ '. "For advice."

Jessica and Ashley pile onto the bed, scooting up into the pillows. Jessica grabs one and cuddles it into her chest. Chloe is expecting the irritation to still be in Aubrey's tone, laced heavily like poison, but she has her stage voice instead. "Gather 'round, Bellas." Amy presses into Chloe's side, craning her neck to get a view of the screen. The slurping from her straw is noisy and close to her ear. Suddenly, the harbored depression about the event hits Chloe full force, and she pouts, trying to gain some distance between herself and the Tasmanian.

The tale, rehashed once again, with a new vigorous energy from Aubrey- who must've really been getting into the required shoes- is heard by almost all Bellas. There is a reproving hum from Ashley that makes Chloe cringe to herself, but that reaction is brief, and not particularly judgemental. Fat Amy is impressed.

"Boys are a waste of time." Cynthia Rose declares with yet another shrug. "That's my take on it." With a small agony blooming in her chest, Chloe wonders what her take on it would be if she knew it was a girl, let alone Beca.

"That doesn't really help though," Jessica points out. "So, this just happened?"

"Uh." Aubrey's eyes dart to Chloe, just for a second. "Recently, yeah."

"And you haven't talked to him at all since?"

Aubrey shakes her head. Stacie pipes in next. "Not even a text, right?" She shakes her head again.

"Well," Ashley sighs, suddenly bizarrely passionate. "Love is love, and it can put us in stupid situations."

"Selena Gomez." There's an air of wisdom in Amy's voice, and a few narrowed eyes turn in her direction. "The bitch was right, God bless her soul."

"What?" Chloe asks- definitely positive that she's missed something.

"The heart wants what is wants." There are a lot of pop culture texts coming from her right now, even for Amy.

Silence, all bearing the same bemused subtext, hangs over them like a thoughtful cloud for a long moment. And though Chloe is _without-a-doubt-positive_ that Miss Selena Gomez didn't pen the sentiment, she agrees with it. Has known for a long time, learned to live through the bruises and bumps that come with it. It's gives her a funny feeling in the base of her gut to think it was a ' _heart_ ' kind of reaction, rather than the influx of hormones that lead her to get a little bit too impulsive, or excited, or whatever the proper, inconsequential reason behind it was. ' _Heart_ ' things are a lot more difficult to solve. She clears her throat.

"Anyway," She throws her hands up into the air. "it's a pickle, Bree." Glancing around at the gathered Bellas. "I think we can all agree." There's a part of her soul that's dying, the pathetic fizzle that's bubbling through the core of her being.

Jessica tuts, Stacie, CR, and Ashley all hum ambiguously, and Fat Amy complies with a bored " _so was Jelena_ ".

Aubrey raises her eyebrows. "But...advice?"

Jessica speaks first. "Talk to him."

"Kiss him again." Fat Amy.

CR, honestly. "I ain't got no advice."

Ashley, following through a yawn. "Give him space. Let yourself think. See if he will come to you at all."

Stacie, who readjusts herself on the bed, sighs. "I agree with Ash, mostly. But," With a devious look between Bellas, the buxom brunette's mouth curls into a sly grin. "make him want you. Show him what he's missing."

Chloe shakes her head. "I don't think Aubrey wants to be a homewrecker. That's the issue here, Stace." Some odd part of her recalls Stacie's family life, remembering the story of her father's tendencies with women that lead him to his second wife. It's a very large, and confusing family tree.

"Well he's unhappy, right?" Stacie says with a frown, turning back to the screen. "You said he's unhappy?"

"I don't know." Aubrey pinches the bridge of her nose. Her patience is running thin. _So much for Bellas help_ , she thinks sullenly.

Jessica hums with an uncertain kind of reluctance. "Aubrey, you don't want to be ' _the other woman_ '." That hadn't even _occurred_ to Chloe. _The other woman?_ Surely, the other woman title was only given after more than one meeting, right? Becoming the other woman is a gradual, somewhat passionate and a little bit of a dirty slope... right? "I think you're best options are to either leave it alone and maybe apologize, or talk it through." Chloe brings her hand up to her mouth, picking at the top layer of skin on her lips. Was _she_ the _other_ woman?

 _No_ , she assures herself quickly. _That's not possible._ Now she's just being anxious.

"That's true..." Aubrey concedes slowly, nodding along with animated emphasis. "The other woman, I don't want to be that." Her eyes find Chloe's again, stern and exasperated. She can feel a flush creep along her neck.

Amy scoffs, waving away the notion with a wide arc of her arm. "No, don't listen to _Buzzkill Bonnie_." Jessica frowns. "Kiss the lug."

Aubrey's teeth peek out between her lips, flabbergasted. "Well." She says quietly. "Thank you, Bellas. I'll take it all to heart, but, it's late and I have to be up at the crack of dawn." Taking the cue, the girls begin to bid their goodbyes and slip from the bed. "Chloe, text me your Christmas itinerary." Code for; _text me without these dumbasses around_. She nods, briskly, watching the girls file from her room. Stacie pauses by the door, leaning against the frame with an enviable amount of leisure.

"You're off the hook for Paul issues tonight, Chlo. Aubrey's was _way_ more interesting, but I'll holla' at you tomorrow."

"'K." She responds, forcing enthusiasm. "I'll be here."

* * *

Stacie never followed through, though; either forgetting, working through the issue, or deciding it wasn't girl-talk material, Chloe didn't know, or exactly care to. She'd been too busy keeping herself out of having a complete pity party. And although she'd gotten a sleigh of Bella advice, none of which seemed applicable to her because _A)_ it was Beca they were talking about, and _B)_ Beca was a strange and curious breed of human and as such, needed to be approached a tad bit differently. Talking wasn't really Beca's go-to response for problem solving, that much was clear. Kissing her again seemed to be out of the question too, because of the fact that, as far as Chloe's knowledge extended; Jesse was still part of the equation. The footnote beneath Beca's availability.

But she didn't particularly trust Beca with space, either.

That was the closest to any option she was going with, however. Partially because, almost two days later, the mortification is still relatively fresh, like an open wound. She didn't want to prod around it. Doing so brought Chloe a kind of pain she wasn't sure how to best deal with for it to heal. And partially, she still hadn't decided on a course of action.

The fact that she knows Beca is avoiding her is also part of the problem.

She can see it, though. In the glances from the corner of her eyes, and the taut, straightforward yet minimal responses she will give to Chloe's questions. Beca is trying to play it cool.

She sucks at it.

But Chloe leaves her be, for lack of a better game plan.

"Do you need any help with anything?" Chloe struggles to speak up as she approaches the brunette; who was in the middle of packing up her gear from the piano bench.

"Nope." Beca pops the ' _p_ ', and Chloe agonizes over watching for anything; a peek in her general direction, even, but there's none. "I'm good." She's crumbled the foundation of their trust, the one Chloe had spent years cultivating. She can feel a pinprick behind her eyes, and she inhales, trying to force the unshed tears far back into her sockets.

"Okay. If you say so." Toting her own bag over her shoulder, she forces her feet to move.

"I do." Beca says quietly, finally offering up a closed-mouth smile that doesn't really reach her eyes. "Thanks."

Chloe nods, gaze flickering down to the untied shoelace around Beca's left foot. She would have said something, three days ago. Would have offered to grab it for her, even though of _course_ Beca wouldn't allow that to happen. But she presses her lips together instead, swallowing the words, the worry. She doesn't want to overextend her welcome.

Stacie is waiting for her at the door.

* * *

So, maybe Chloe kissed her.

Beca has spent the last two days reliving the moment, over and over, dissecting every single scenario over the course of their friendship to try to figure out where the fuck Jesse had caught on, because somehow, she never had.

And she's spent too much time angry at him, annoyed at him, when at the end of the day; he was right.

She still felt angry and annoyed, though. It flares up occasionally. But since that evening in the kitchen, she thinks it's reduced to an ever-present simmer that was nearer to heartbreak.

She doesn't like thinking about it. It's like a mental olympics, even though she _obsesses_ about the fact that it happened. But the situation itself?

Beca's brickwork- temporary, she's telling herself- would make Qin Shi Huang gasp with envy. She just can't look at it right now. Can't think about all that too much- the specifics- she has to draw the line somewhere. After all, she's got other things to worry about, even _before_ DSM and Worlds, and secret internships.

Which brings her here, with a door in front of her face and her fist; poised and ready to knock, hovering. Thoughtful. Reluctant. Annoyance on a low burn. When the hell did it all get this complicated?

Taking a deep breath, she brings her knuckles against the wood, rapping against it a couple of times. She doesn't have to wait long before it's thrown open; Jesse, a billow of blue hoodie and bedhead looks surprised to see her. But only for a passing moment; it's soon being replaced with a small smile.

"Becaw." He greets coolly, stepping aside. "I was just going to text you. It's like we have twin-telepathy, or something."

The dorm is messy, as usual. It smells like popcorn. Benji's strange magic box that he sometimes hangs out in, is in the middle of the floor. Beca eyes it dubiously, half-expecting the other Treblemaker to emerge. "Uh." Her eyes dart back to Jesse, who's shutting the door behind her. "I think you have to be twins to have twin-telepathy. Hence, _twin_ -telepathy."

Jesse snorts with a kind of suppressed laughter, settling back down against his bed and shoving his laptop over to make some room. For once, to Beca's mild surprise, there isn't a movie playing. Just homework. "You have to ruin the fun." He pouts exaggeratedly, batting those lashes up at her, and her suspicions are affirmed in that moment looking down at him.

The novelty of their relationship had faded for her.

A long time ago, probably. She just couldn't see it. She sighs.

"Sorry about that." She murmurs, completely and totally aware that she's about to ruin the fun even more. Taking a seat next to him on the mattress, Beca tucks her feet up under her, removing a lock of hair that falls into her face while doing so. The next few words stick to her throat, like they don't want to come out. "There's actually something I need to talk to you about."

A shadow of worry crosses his features; the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, the promise of a lighthearted quip or joke just below the surface. But nothing. He keeps it to himself; the longer his eyes dart over Beca's own expression, the truth of just how serious she was weighed on him. "Oh." He says it quietly. He might know what's coming. "Are you alright?"

Beca wants to nod, let him know that it's not her that he needs to be concerned about. Not right now. "Fine, yeah. But Jesse-"

"You're breaking up with me."

It's surmised in a single, cohesive, quiet sentence. It's not inflicted like an accusation, but it almost hurts just as much. She would almost be defensive, but it's definitely not the time.

To her relief too, however, he doesn't say it like the hurt, angry little boy she was half-expecting him to behave like. Jesse has a tough love side. She'd first been introduced to it her freshman year meltdown. Despite his usual goofy demeanor, he was more than capable of that.

But it doesn't mean the words leaving his mouth don't twist her a little- okay, _a lot_ \- somewhere deep inside of her. "Jesse..." There's the octave in her voice, she barely recognizes, that makes _her_ feel like the pathetic one. "You know it's been..." Hard? Unsatisfactory? Honestly, downright a little bit weird? "Kind of like it's not... Not how it was when we first started dating."

His lips pull into a thin line, eyes looking away from her and ahead of himself, at nothing. "Yeah. I know." The really familiar look that Beca knows in herself as walls coming up. Though theirs were a little bit different. His was a curtain drawing over his face, masking him, leaving only a silhouette and ready to be dropped whenever it was needed. Hers was made of brick and stone, a full circle around her personality, something ready to be hidden behind if she dares venture out.

"It's not fair to either of us." It's hard to keep her voice steady. "I don't want to hurt you Jesse- you're like, my best friend." And as soon as those words leave her mouth- true in their own way as they are- she can just imagine Jesse's biting response. _I thought Chloe was your best friend?_ "You know me, in a different way. I care about you a lot, and it's not fair."

He might mentally think it, but he doesn't say it aloud, thank God. "I know what you mean." There's the hurt, heard from behind the curtain.

"It's not anything you've done-"

His hand comes up, slowly, palm out. Requesting as politely as he can without words for her to stop talking for a moment. By the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, she knows he's trying not to cry. The only other times she's seen him cry, up until this point, was during The Green Mile- and even then, it was just misty-eyed- and when his family dog Gypsy had died last year.

"Beca." He says it after a moment, turning back to look at her. Those browns are glossy, once again, and there's a swelling moment she can feel in her chest, before he smiles, just barely. "I know. When I was going to ask you to come over later," He shakes his head, still smiling, and blinks away the tears a couple times. "I was going to talk to you about this, and see if you wanted to..."

Beca furrows her brow. Millions of half thoughts starting to form in her mind, but not quite getting a chance to finish before something else replaced them. "To break up?" She asks, dumbly.

Jesse lets out a small laugh. "Yeah."

The swelling Beca was feeling shifts into something else; a disbelief cocktail, but happiness was among the mixture. "Actually?"

"Yeah." He repeats again. "I mean, it's weird because I was heading towards the same thing," He looks away again. But there's still a curl in his lip that reassures her. "but it still hurts."

"Well..." She's never been particularly eloquent, especially with feelings; and when someone else is in need of comfort. But she knows even if she weren't socially shot, she would still feel the strange wedge between them that seems to tell her that right now, it's not really her place to comfort him. She frowns. "It's not like I'm kicking you to the curb, Jess." She tries for lighthearted. Much less certain if it's coming off that way. "We just you know, won't be having..." His eyes peek at her from their corners, somewhere between amused and annoyed. He exhales heavily through his nose, propping his elbows up on her knees and holding a fist to his closed mouth. "...you know."

He nods once, curtly. Wordlessly, they sit there for what could be a whole minute before he finally speaks. "Damn. I'm going to need to make a breakup movie catalogue."

It's the exact right thing to say. As stupid, as silly- as Jesse as it was, it makes her smile. "You are _such_ a girl," 


	13. Chapter 13

**Happy New Year! So, this was the chapter that was initially going to tie in with the previous one-shot I had written. But, I decided for the sake of or timeline, to speed things up a bit (considering the one-shot took place in December). So, in a parallel universe, Gingerbread Men and Haunted Basements is how Beca and Chloe make up.**

 **Thanks always!**

* * *

' _You need to get your groove back, Beca!'_

That's what Dream Aubrey had told her last night. Or more like, sung, in a completely out of season toga party while the two of them were in a conga line, right before Fat Amy had driven her bosses car into the fondue fountain.

And Beca's never been one to believe dreams are particularly prolific, or think too long or too hard about what it was her subconscious mind was trying to feed her; but this time, she could admit that Dream Aubrey had a point. The Jesse drama had been snipped, and while that had been weighing heavily on her, it only felt like a minute relief. She'd spent her time instead burying herself in her work. Bellas work, Residual Heat work, and even schoolwork- go figure. Anything to get her mind off of the Chloe incident. Which, of course, she felt bad enough about.

She knows she's avoiding Chloe. She knows Chloe has made an effort to continue their usual friendship, but Beca is freezing. Like a glitch that embeds itself in her amygdala, with neurons zipping over the bug and completely skipping over the entire _'thinking about it'_ process. She just doesn't. Won't. _Can't_. The specifications aren't entirely certain. She'd definitely spent the days afterwards unable to _stop_ thinking about it. Beca half-wonders if she'd simply over-extended the quota, and now she's unable to access the memory as she usually would. She slides over it when she thinks about it. Black ice. It happened, obviously she's not lost on that. And she can remember it clearly when she really sits and thinks.

But the sitting and thinking, as good as Beca is at that, isn't really how she wants to deal with this problem.

She wants to ignore it. Let it wiggle and whine in the back of her mind until it blows over or, until she figures out a legitimate course of action to deal with it.

It's harder to ignore Chloe, though. She doesn't necessarily want to- it just feels like it's her best hope right now. Even if the loud, yelling part of her brain is telling her she's an asshole. It's not wrong. Beca knows that, too. And it's really, _really_ difficult to do; because it's as if there's something ingrained in Chloe's genetic material that screams her attention. Her voice, her red hair, and even her personality; it's all hypnotic. _Demands_ the attention. Pulls you by the ear.

Beca doesn't want to butcher the friendship. Chloe is the best friend that she's ever had, it's as simple as that. She has to trust that this won't take a toll on it. She's putting up a fight this time. Because the space is something she needs; Beca just wishes she had the strength to articulate that to her. Chloe, astute as she is, however, seems to have picked up on it.

All in all, anyway Beca looks at it, Dream Aubrey is right. She needs to get her groove back. It's just been difficult to feel like herself again, as if she'd lost something along the way in the Jesse mess.

* * *

It's the one week anniversary since the breakup. She's in bed, brow furrowed in a deep contemplative thought- Dream Aubrey- one hand balled into a fist resting against the crown of her head. There _has_ to be a place to start. Groaning, she swings her legs over the side of her bed and snatches her cell and headphones from the bedside table. Snugly fitting them over her ears, Beca glances over at Amy's vacant bed, and then out the window; it hadn't snowed since the freak blizzard, and most of it had turned to puddles and slush. It had hovered close enough to freezing however for it to stick around in that state.

Heading down the flight of stairs, Beca taps along with the rhythm against the railing. She'd also spent a lot of her time like this. Headphones meant that people- _Chloe_ \- would be less privy to try to engage in conversation with her. It also kept her distracted from most critical thinking, as well as on the lookout for any sort of inspiration. Or so she told herself. It hadn't done a lot to help her yet. It had just seemed like a great way to kill three birds with one stone.

There isn't a fellow Bella sighting all the way into the kitchen, and she comes to a halt in front of the coffee machine, carefully opening the top of the contraption and emptying the contents into the trashbin under the sink- pausing only afterwards with her teeth pressed together. Was coffee compostable? It's blanking from her mind. Surreptitiously, she glances over her shoulder, but the coast was still clear from every other Bella who could possibly chastise her. They'd gotten really into composting ever since they'd all spent an afternoon- while Beca was at work- watching environmentally conscious documentaries on Netflix. Beca respected it, and was on board and everything, but she just had a tendency to forget.

So, she closes the cupboard door slowly, before continuing on her way in making a fresh pot. As it brews, Beca taps her toes along.

See, she understands impulsivness. Is familiarized with it as a quality that occasionally makes itself apparent even under her own skin. Which has had mixed reviews in her experience, honestly. Sometimes, it takes her reins hard and yanks Beca in a direction she hadn't considered going in; such as the Bulletproof mashup, which had resulted negatively in her benefit- in the form of Aubrey with her teeth bared and ready to go for Beca's throat in the same way she'd spoken of the wolves.

Beca could also chalk up her first initial kiss with Jesse as impulse. Sure, he'd dropped ample hints that he'd be into that kind of thing, and it had been accumulating over a few months. But she'd mixed their ICCA winning song with him in mind. With _The Breakfast Club_ as something he held near and dear to his heart- still does, still won't shut up about it if given the chance- she'd, unarguably, put a deal of her own heart into it. Into him. So when she saw him there in the audience, all surprised and touched, she couldn't help it.

As a whole, it was a positive turnout for her impulsiveness.

So she understands impulse. What worries her, however, is how she'd managed to miss every single sign from Chloe that may have lead up to that impulse. Thinking about it kind of makes her lungs feel compressed, in something she's not sure is fear or something else entirely. It makes breathing difficult.

The same way as fingertips tapping along the top of her shoulder seizes her heart the moment before she nearly leaps out of her skin. She sort of releases a hybrid sound somewhere between a yelp and a dying cat squeal comes out of her mouth before she can bite down on it, and she leaps a full one-eighty. She half expects to find big blue eyes probing at her- but when her vision clears, it becomes clear that the perpetrator is actually, in fact, Cynthia Rose with eyes wide and her hands held up against her chest.

"Damn," She hears the girl say as she slips the headphones around her neck. "Didn't mean to give you a heart attack, Cap." Beca blows the remaining air from her chest, the usual embarrassment that accompanies any kind of shriek like that settling with her in the form of a flush in her cheeks. Grimacing, she levels the other woman with a dry glare.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Her eyes then flicker to the cellphone clasped in one of Cynthia Rose's hands, and then back to her face. "What is it?"

CR twists her lips distastefully, before silently unlocking her phone and thumbing over the screen. "You seen this?" She asks once she's found what she was looking for, holding the phone out in Beca's direction. Squinting, she cranes her head back and let's the screen come into focus. She's a bit wary when she sees it as the horrifically gorgeous DSM woman's Twitter page. The wariness soon boils into a defensive rage when she reads the latest Tweet.

" _We can't wait to..._ " She mumbles to herself, as if saying it aloud will help her cope, anger causing the octave in her voice to slowly rise. " _see the Barden Bellas bumping ineptitude in person?_ " Her eyes scan across the words a few more times, not really reading, before she moves her gaze to Cynthia Rose. Who frowns.

"Uncalled for."

It kind of feels like someone- the entirety of the organizational group of Das Sound Machine- has poked at her with a bunch of sticks. Her ego is threatened. "I feel like that was more than one-hundred-forty characters." Shaking her head, she extends her hands towards CR again, looking back down at the phone still held in her hand. "May I?"

Cynthia Rose places the device in her hand, but warns a far-from-placating " _don't stew_ ,". Which, Beca's not. She just needs to look at it some more. Look at each diabolical letter that makes her pride rear it's ugly little head somewhere inside of her. As if that Amazonian woman would even have the gall-

"Can I borrow this?" She asks quickly, and CR furrows her brows together.

"Uh."

"I don't have Twitter." She explains, blinking. "I don't Twitter."

"Okay?" Beca knows full well that that didn't make a ton of sense. But she needs to save most of her mental capacity for the conversation she's about to have. Holding up a finger, she promises a quick return, and whisks off without a second thought about her coffee.

She's avoiding Chloe. But she _needs_ her. Sure, every Bella can share the mutual loathing, but Chloe is the only one that can help. She's her co-captain. And if she wants to bury herself in Bellas work?

Time to take captain seriously.

She arrives outside of Chloe's bedroom door as if she's on autopilot, without thinking. She doesn't have to think. She simply halts on the other side of the wood and spares a thought wondering if Chloe's even on the other side, before giving a tentative knock. And she can feel her heartbeat, but maybe that's only because she's holding her breath, but when there's a quiet " _come in_ " from the other side, she releases it and pushes her way in.

Chloe's laying on her bed, propped up against the headboard with a textbook on her lap, face plastered in some kind of white beauty mask, and red hair messily kept in a bun atop of her head. Beca catches the way her face goes slightly slack at her arrival; like she's shocked that it was Beca who was coming to see her. Which, she probably is. After all- _avoidance_. Which is awkward and makes Beca feel like an asshole so she bulldozes over that whole train of thought, sort of clumsily holding Cynthia Rose's phone out in front of her as she approaches the bed, though she knows there's no way Chloe will be able to read it from the distance they're currently at. Beca is just using it as a way to take the attention off of herself.

"What's that?" Chloe asks as Beca perches onto the foot of the bed, offering the phone towards the other girl.

"Have you seen this?" She echoes CR's earlier sentiment. Chloe reaches out for the phone, smooth fingers grazing the skin of Beca's hands as she relieves cellphone from her grip. She watches Chloe's expression crumple from- quite frankly- startled to disappointed, to annoyed in a matter of what was maybe three whole seconds. A crease forming a deep line in the mask between her brows and her lips hooking downwards.

" _See_ our _bumbling ineptitude in person_?" Beca always thinks it sounds so strange to hear Chloe mad. The sharp tinge to her words from someone usually so softspoken. Chloe scoffs, blue orbs leaving the phone without finding purchase, coming back to stare at the screen as thoughts whirl through her. Beca can practically hear the mechanical whir. "These German-" Her nose scrunches up.

"I know." Beca interjects, when the silence- only punctuated by the other woman's scoffing and noises of dissent- had stretched long enough for her to assume that there wasn't an insult being settled upon. "We need to get our act together, Chloe." The girl in question lets her eyes bore into Beca's. Angry. Shocked. Hurt, too, maybe. Though the second she thinks she sees that swimming under the surface, she snaps her gaze away so fast that Beca's worried she might have strained something back there. Instead she throws her gaze into a far corner of Chloe's room; currently, the one her laundry hamper lives in. "We need to beat them."

And she can feel Chloe's eyes still on her; the burning that it leaves on her skin. Her neck, her shoulders, her entire body itching with the primal knowledge that she's being watched. And, usually, that could be solved by easily meeting the gaze; like any socially apt individual. In lieu of her recent mortification for reasons not-explored-or-specified, the idea- though tempting- of holding any sort of eye contact is really unappealing to her right now. Because she _knows_ she's going to blush. She can actually feel her ears getting hot right now and she's not even looking at Chloe.

"I agree." Chloe's voice is so much softer now. Carries so much easier. "You know I do. Obviously."

 _Obviously_.

"Yeah." She brushes the underside of her nose with her knuckle, mostly to give herself something to do. "But like," And, because she's also aware that she can't look like a total freak, she edges her gaze back towards the other girl. Specifically, her socked feet, because it's the easiest part to look at. "We've been running around in circles for... for..." And a chance at seeing Chloe's face- still a cocktail of defiant, maybe a bit interested, and also maybe a bit hurt. She's looking at Beca like she's scared at what she's going to say next. So she throws her hands up helplessly. "Pretty much since we started. What progress have we made?" To spare herself from seeing any single one of aforementioned emotions spiking, she takes great interest in the direction of Chloe's dresser. It's a nice dresser. Cluttered, and it reminds Beca a bit of an elderly woman, but nice.

Chloe's next response is calculated. "Well..." Without looking, Beca arches a brow. Not off to a great start. "We've really nailed down a few arrangements, you know. And, we've really started playing with some cool stuff- we could use any one of those at Worlds, which I bet DSM wouldn't think of using." She's trying, Beca can tell, but she really sounds about as convinced as Beca feels.

"I don't think that's going to cut it."

"Then what?" The bed shifts a bit under Beca, prompting her attention be given back to the other girl. Chloe shuts her textbook and slides it under her pillow. Their eyes meet and in a second of panic, Beca smiles. She's not sure why, but she hadn't been expecting it. Except, it's not really a smile- it's more of her, showing her teeth, and knowing full well that her eyes are wild and probably look like a feral cat ready to bolt. But Chloe sort of smiles back- in her own sort of smile way- that's all closed mouth and sad eyes and it makes the spot between Beca's third and fourth ribs hurt so starkly for a moment, that she nearly does.

 _Bolt_ , that is.

But instead she remains rooted, trying to wipe the stupid look off of her face as Chloe slides the phone back in her direction.

Then she remembers that Chloe kind of asked her a question.

"I don't know." Wow, she'd really like the mattress to swallow her up right now. Her heart is suddenly beating too fast and Chloe looks too forlorn and she's way to ill-equipped to deal with anything, let alone DSM. There isn't a single solution in her mind.

Behind her, Chloe huffs. The bed shifts again, this time Beca can tell there's a weight lifting from it, and she's about to crane her head around to see what Chloe is doing before she catches a blur of color marching past her. "I am not letting the Bellas die without a fight." It's a tad theatrical, but she's already throwing open her closet doors and Beca's left wondering how she manages to fit the sum of clothes in there that she does. Before Beca can even think of a response, Chloe is removing several layers of clothing from their racks. With a tad more brute force than she thinks is necessary, but still. "We need to get proactive."

"Dude." Chloe is actually sort of flinging things around. It's impossible not to look at her.

Leering into the mirror that's fastened to the inside of the closet door, Beca can see Chloe's eyes dart at her for a moment, before returning to her reflection. Where she then begins to carefully peel the edges of the mask from her face. "Bundle up, Beca. Meet me at the auditorium."

"What's happening?" Of all the things Chloe has made her feel, weirdly frightened has never really been among them.

"We're going to figure out a way to show DSM that we aren't a laughing matter."

* * *

Beca had vacated the space relatively quickly after that; deciding to heed Chloe's advice and bundle up before heading out to the auditorium. She's not sure if this is actually supposed to be a secret meeting; which means two things. Firstly, the potential of being alone with Chloe- excluding the fact that they were, technically, just alone in her bedroom- is sending little electrified currents across her nerves. And secondly, when she runs into Amy at the door, and she's questioned about her whereabouts, Beca has to think for a moment if she's supposed to lie.

"Uh." She blinks, shaking her head at herself. "Auditorium." Really, if she's so nervous about being alone with Chloe, why _shouldn't_ she want to let someone else in on it?

It's not like Chloe wouldn't understand.

She just ran into Amy on her way out, that's all.

Amy brings her eyebrows together in a tight knit. "What's going on there? I don't remember word of any Bellas practice."

"Chloe wants me to meet her there."

Amy's head lolls lazily back with the force of the long- and abruptly knowing, in Beca's opinion- " _ooooh_ " that leaves her mouth. Beca clenches her teeth together, eyes darting for the door on the other side of the woman. "So this is a Bhloe thing?"

A zing shoots up her spine, straightening her like a ramrod. _Bhloe_. She'd been calling them Bhloe, for years. That had always gone over Beca's head; she'd simply chalked it up to one of Fat Amy's many undesirable mannerisms that she had learned to tolerate. The Bhloe, the teasings, she'd simply pegged it to be part of Amy's personality. And, yes, there's a good chance she's already paranoid and nervous, but Amy looks way too smug. She actually thinks she can feel the exact moment her heartrate spikes. " _No_!" It's shrill, far more shrill and defensive than what she was going for. But it slides out of her mouth before she can process it, and the gravity of panic raises her voice. Amy's eyebrows arc. "We're just," She needs to compensate. Which involves actively keeping her tone level. "We're going to nail out a DSM defeat gameplan. Chloe's, like- she's freaking out."

Amy clucks her tongue. "Right." And the long blink she gives Beca serves as the punctuation, and, unfortunately, she knows it's also for dramatic effect. Beca pinches her tongue between her teeth. "Are you going to nail out anything else while you're there?"

A thousand little needle points are creeping up the back of Beca's neck, and her outrage is short-lived when she realizes she's about to turn the same shade as Chloe's hair. "I'll be leaving now."

That's her only hitch, really, on her way there. Her immediate vacating of Amy's vicinity was increasingly important to her, because if she had to think too long or too hard about another human being aware of Chloe's feelings that wasn't her- she might short circuit. And if she wants to make forward progress in the acapella bubble of her brain- DSM defeat- she can't allow that.

Which is why she's totally not even thinking about it when she gets to the auditorium. She checks the door to see if it's locked- which is not, which means Chloe is inside already- and then heaves the thing open. Nudging it with her foot as she slides in, the heat rushes up to meet her. It makes her cold nose start to thaw, and she sniffs a bit as she makes her way over the concrete.

Chloe's settled in already, jacket strew across the back of some bleachers, and already pacing back and forth in front of the whiteboard. She looks up as Beca enters, but quickly resumes her scrunched up ' _thinking_ ' face, step not faltering one bit. She's usually moving, Beca notices. Some way, somehow. Without thinking. Always moving to some unknown rhythm, something that's only hers, something melodic. Beca can't help but think her melody would flow a lot less easier. Hers bang around in the rafters, slam windows and doors if there's no base track keeping her busy- or it's radio silence.

"I could have helped you with that," She opens stiffly, gesturing towards the whiteboard with one hand. Moving it solo was possible, sure, but a lot easier with two.

Chloe looks up at her again, a bit wide-eyed. She stops in her tracks, glancing back at the whiteboard. "Oh. Yeah, no, it wasn't a problem." And then she flashes a smile that is a bit strained around the eyes. It's almost enough to trigger Beca's fight or flight impulse.

"Okay." She busies herself with removing her jacket. It can only kill so much time though, and when the silence covers the two of them again, she sticks her foot in her mouth, just for something to do. "Sorry if I took a while. Ran into Amy at the door."

"It's okay." That same smile. "I haven't really been here long."

"Great." For once, Beca thinks she'd rather spend an afternoon listening to Shiela talk about her stamp collection. Seriously, was she an eighty year old man? Which, startling as that thought is, only makes her feel slightly more determined to fix their current situation. Because this was Chloe. And, rather than being invaded on during a shower, she has never once- nor _should_ she- felt like she would rather be in Shiela's company. "So, where do we start?"

Words, and the power of them sometimes, never really fail to surprise Beca. Chloe relief at the change of subject could be a tangible being. It lowers her shoulders and shifts in the air- tension still present, but hovering, not compressing. Or at least not Chloe, anyway, and that makes her feel a bit better; even if she's still feeling the stress.

"Well," Chloe paces over to the board, toe-tapping and lifting the dry erase marker under her chin, thoughtfully staring at the blank white canvas in front of her. And then, with a sigh, she uncaps the top of the lid and scrawls out in capitals;  
 _ **LOSING**_  
 _ **2**_  
 _ **DSM**_  
And there's something about the dark, capitalized blue writing that fills her with a ribbon of dread. Whether it's the notion, or the helplessness she feels, or the way Chloe had seemed to take up the whole board with a word, a number, and three letters, that has her feeling like her heart just fell out of her butt. "We don't want this." Chloe concludes, capping the pen again and pointing it at what she'd just written, for emphasis.

"No we don't."

"I mean, we've scouted them," Chloe scrunches her nose up as she recalls the memory. "And what could we take away from their performance?"

That they're terrifying and hot? "Their group is massive." She arches an eyebrow, allowing herself a few tentative steps in Chloe's direction. The other girl nods, before turning back to the whiteboard and flipping it over. On the other side, she quickly uses the eraser to wipe away any traces of their previous stage arrangement, and documents Beca's note in it's place. "They were totally in sync."

Chloe tuts her tongue as she writes. "They were like a freakin' machine."

" _Right_."

* * *

Forty-five minutes of casual Das Sound Machine bashing, trainwreck brainstorming, and a semi-thawing of Beca's awkwardness later; the mass message was sent out to Acabitches, via Chloe's phone. The available Bellas had according filtered in; they were only four short, and Cynthia Rose had announced that she would have to be gone within twenty minutes to make it to her class. But it was enough.

"What's worse than DSM?" They'd also taken to covering the top half of the white board, for _ambiance, effect, and show_. Chloe's words, not hers. Leaving ' ** _LOSING 2'_** covered in a flimsy white sheet they'd discovered in the storage room. But, for Chloe's knack of show, she dramatically gestures to the exposed three letters and Beca gives a nod of silent support. "We already know that they're rude, arrogant, German robots. Well," Clutching her hands around the fabric of the sheet, Chloe makes a quick eye contact with Beca from the other side of the whiteboard, telepathically asking if she has anything to add. Beca is alerted to this by the inquisitive cock of Chloe's brow. As it is, however, she doesn't have anything to say, and this is- she trusts- communicated in her flippant nod. So, Chloe pulls the sheet down, revealing the top half of the board. " _Boom_."

"Losing two bodies in gang related violence?" Flo offers.

"No." Chloe doesn't miss a beat. Beca considers it for a moment longer, though.

"Well, _yes_. But no."

And, if there was anything that Beca and Chloe had accomplished, she realized as the minutes ticked on, was that they simply gathered the other girls' attention. A bit. While they had managed to pinpoint several reasons why DSM was such a threat, and angles that they would subsequently have to rival them at, Beca has dwindling faith in their ability to really formulate a plan. ' ** _LOSING 2 DSM'_** was still making her nervous.

Everything is making her nervous.

So much that, after the meeting had been adjourned, she'd insisted on helping Chloe move the white board back into the little closet room it usually lived, and she'd put her layers back on- and she regretted it. Because she was sweating. Because once again, it struck her that she was alone with Chloe. Who, seemed to have similar thoughts about the whole DSM situation because she didn't appear any more pacified than she was when she'd first met the girl in the auditorium.

"Maybe," Beca hedges, throwing an askance look at the redhead as they neared the doors. "maybe a break is good." Chloe's head swivels to gape at her so fast that Beca is concerned that the girl may have pulled something. Quickly, she raises her hands. "Hear me out. We at least got that stuff down," she throws her hand out vaguely towards the empty space behind them, only to bring it back and clenches them into a fist. "but with Christmas around the corner, and, and- there's still a lot of time, Chloe. Maybe we need to... _rejuvenate_."

Chloe narrows her eyes. "Rejuvenate?"

She's not particularly used to uptight Chloe. It's a bit scary. The red of her hair really brings out the terrifying twinkle of murder in her eyes. "Or something."

"Beca." Chloe places her hand against the door, pressing against the beam that opens it and letting a rush of cool air in. "If we don't win, the Bellas are over. Forever. And no American team has ever won," Following the older woman outside, Beca frowns to herself. "we have a lot at stake."

"I get that." And she does. But, their progress just seems so nonexistent that Beca isn't sure what other course of action they really have.

"We have to do it for- for _generations_ of Bellas. Could you imagine if we're the generation that lets that down? We have to do it for _Legacy_ , for _Bellas_ ,"

She's not really sure how to comfort Chloe. Maybe, before things were weird- her own fault- she would reach out and grab Chloe's hand and give it one good, reassuring squeeze. The same way Chloe has done to her a few times in her moments of panic or doubt. But it doesn't feel right, now.

Beca's struck by how upsetting that notion is. Square in the chest, it kind of feels like she's had a rib or two removed, some phantom sensation that something close to her heart has been taken from her. It's startling, how fast she's let on to it; maybe it's because she's without the aid of music, or maybe it's because this is the first time she's seen Chloe really show any kind of emotion- especially one that resembles dismay- that would make Beca want to reach out to her, even on her most awkward of days.

And she knows Chloe has a pocketful of healthier coping mechanisms than she does. She's _sure_ of it. Positive, mostly. She could, of sound mind, trust that Chloe will simply return to the Bellas house, throw on a shitty 80's pop playlist, and clean or exercise to keep her mind moving. She may have her moments of misery, but Beca knows that Chloe is the ' _glass-half-full_ ' to her ' _glass-half-empty_ ' kind of person. She doesn't just let things get her down. She is, at her core, determined, patient Chloe Beale.

Until she's not.

Because Beca's been a giant asshole. For a mistake. An accident. She's been metaphorically chaining Chloe up to the tree outside of her mental fortress like some sad old dog, to deal with whatever crappy weather is happening outside of Beca's walls.

And Chloe doesn't really deserve that.

The notion snatches up every bit of air in her body- makes her feel like every single atom in that makes her Beca Mitchell is suddenly filled with raw sewage. How could she have done this? To _Chloe_? Who is still rambling full-speed-ahead about Bellas, and looking more and more frazzled by the second- but Beca's lost the ability to understand language. She feel like she might throw up. She doesn't know what the course of action to take is, only that she's been driving a racecar for the past week or so and now she's about to hit a corner way too hard, way too fast. And the brakes have been disconnected.

Helpless. She's got three options; _bail_ , hold onto the steering wheel with both hands while the car rolls and crashes- _spectacularly_ \- or, fuck the corner and continue going straight until she dead-on collides with the concrete barrier.

Not one sounds very appealing.

She's not sure which of those options involves grabbing Chloe by her wrists and stopping her in her tracks, but it's the response her body is having to her given set of options.

Chloe's tirade stops abruptly, with one long blink showcasing her surprise. Imploringly, Beca sort of stares at Chloe while her eyes adjust to their new distance.

"Are you okay?" She asks, unsure of what else to do. Chloe's brow furrows, but she looks as if she might be considering the question. But because they're in the middle of the sidewalk, and Beca isn't sure how much longer this is going to look like a normal interaction, she drops her hands and prays for this pregnant pause to end in like, a _second_ , or else she might say something else stupid. It doesn't, so she does. "I'm an asshole. I've been an asshole."

Chloe's eyes crawl away from hers, and Beca can see that she's biting her cheek inside of her mouth. Can see the concave mark. "It's..." She starts, before clicking her tongue. "Beca, you don't need to apologize, if that's what you're doing. You really don't." A short bubble of laughter escapes her throat- nervous, by the pitch of it- and Chloe raises her hand to her chest earnestly as her eyes find Beca again. " _I_ am the one who should be apologizing."

Chloe wronged. At the heart of it, she did, and Beca knows this. But maybe one of the reasons that she didn't want to think on it too long, or too hard, was because she knew that Chloe would always apologize. At almost every occasion where she thinks she could have possibly let any Bella down; whether it be forgetting to pick up an extra order of fries for Amy, or getting cream cheese on Beca's sheets, she will practically become any given Bella's personal womanservant until she thinks the woe has been rectified.

But those are small fuck-ups. Inconsequential ones.

This, though Beca would hesitate in saying it was consequential- for the moment, because it sounds mean- was a bit of a larger fuck-up on a Chloe Beale scale of things. And she hadn't been running in circles for Beca. Partially, Beca thinks, because she was never given the chance.

She's right to feel sorry, Beca can concede, but she would know that anyhow. And trust it, tenfold, with all of her heart. But without the chance to explain herself- or work through it in any Chloe way she sees fit- who knows how it's been for her? Beca sure to God wouldn't, she's spent most of the time with her headphones over her ears and holing away in her room.

And that's what she's apologizing for.

It's not about _her_ , right now. Chloe does _not_ need to cater to her feelings.

"No," This emotion talk kind of makes her feel primitive. That's why she brings her hand up to her chest, mimicking Chloe's earlier action, and lets it press against the spot where, between those third and fourth rib bones, something akin to a heart is said to live. "Chloe, _I'm_ sorry." Her eyes dart between Chloe's, searching for something to latch onto. She just looks sad, or tired, or both. "I really haven't-" A further explanation sits in her. She needs it there, present, but her brain loves to make her look like an idiot in almost any given situation. Which is why, she imagines, she's making a pedaling motion with her hands. "I don't- you know? I don't like. I don't." Chloe blinks a few times, a single brow arching upwards expectantly. "I mean, I didn't know how to- to- to react, you know?"

For the smallest fraction of a second, Chloe's eyes dart away from her as a small, affirmative hum comes from her. Beca's heartrate spikes, immediately, upon that lack of reaction. "Bec-"

"Wait." There's an inkling feeling that Chloe is going to brush this off again. "That came out wrong."

Chloe pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, burying her hands deeper into the pockets of her jacket, and rocks a bit on her feet. Beca knows what it means. She's waiting.

Always waiting.

"It's cold," She offers. "Do you want to talk at home?"

* * *

The first thing Chloe does when they enter her room, was crack open the window. The ' _talking_ ' space that had been, wordlessly, decided upon due to the fact that Amy had no classes and, as far as either of them knew, returned home. Or at least it was implied by the way there were boots strewn out of the front closet in a way that screamed Amy, or Stacie, and Stacie _did_ happen to be absent from the Bellas meeting. So.

It's as though she's trying to let out the bad energy. Actually- no, not bad- just stressful. And Beca's pretty sure that was entirely caused by her, because she's been fidgeting like a junkie without a fix and anxiously chewing her nails the whole way here. But either way, it gives Chloe something to do, and the breeze might help the stifling insecurity Beca was feeling about this whole mess.

She hates apologies. Not because she's a jerk, but because she finds them so unbearably, agonizingly awkward in lieu of her botched social habits. She usually wishes she was lit on fire instead. Talking has never been her strong suit.

Which is why she clings to the doorknob a bit longer than she ought to when they enter the room, watching as Chloe makes her way over to the window, feeling the steady thump against her ribcage, the cadence of her inelegance daring her to open her mouth. Any kind of word feels hot and sticky against her tongue, sticking to her. And there's a certain security in that, she finds- as she has always found- the lingering option of backing out. If she was in highschool, this would be about the time she snarks something that could tear a strip off of someone's back, just to give her an opportunity to turn heel and flee. Not have to deal with anything. Let the poor soul on the receiving end have the problem.

As it so happens, though, this _isn't_ highschool anymore, and Beca wouldn't like to tear anything from Chloe. The opposite, actually. Mending is more of her general endgame here.

"Um." She starts, wringing her hands together in front of her and rocking on her heels. "So this," Beca uses her thumb to motion between the two of them. At least it's a start. Chloe purses her lips together, crossing the small threshold towards her bed, and shuffling upwards to rest against the headboard. Beca stoops down at the foot of the bed, tucking her knees up under her and angling herself towards Chloe- trying to catch ahold of a half decent followup.

"I'm sorry." Chloe repeats again, and Beca's noise of dissent is sharp.

"No." She holds a finger up at the other girl. "No, you don't apologize to me." Chloe, reprimanded, drops her gaze. Beca can't help but smile to herself- there is something so childishly guilty about her expression. "We went over this."

"Yeah." Chloe mumbles, twiddling her thumbs together and meeting Beca's gaze once again. When she sees that she's smiling, though, something about her expression softens. "Right. You needed to find your words."

Beca pulls in air through her teeth. "Yeah, still need to do that, kinda."

"Okay." Chloe pops her lips together before leaning over to scoop up the magazine left on the bottom of her nightstand. "Go ahead and gather yourself, I'll be here." She presses a quick smile over the top of this month's Cosmo, before flipping open to the index page.

Chloe goes to great lengths to make people feel comfortable. Beca has been well acquainted with that. Somehow learning the exact right thing to do with every person in her life; but, then again, maybe it's not really that difficult at all. Maybe Beca is just really bad at that kind of stuff, so it makes Chloe seem even more impressive. Either way, Chloe's show of being at ease- one in which Beca is pretty sure isn't actually eligible, because Chloe is nibbling on her lower lip. The thoughtful, distantly worried way she does when she's thinking about choreography. But it's enough. So, Beca rolls her head on her shoulders, and lets the silence do it's work for her.

Eventually, she comes to the conclusion that there's a bottom line in all of this- and maybe she can just use that to build her way up. "This," Chloe lowers the magazine from her view, big blue eyes blinking over at Beca as she closes it and sets it atop of the duvet next to her. Now that she has Chloe's attention on her again, though, she can feel the heat creep itself up her neck; the will to speak threatening to dry up on her tongue. Gesturing between the two of them uselessly, wrangling her thoughts into place. "makes..." One word at a time, apparently. Why is talking so _hard_? Sighing at herself, Beca pinches the bridge of her nose. She knows what she wants to say. It's all about swallowing her pride now, that's making it difficult. She swallows thickly, bringing her hands back to gesture at herself now, waving them around her chest as though to emphasize. "Me sad."

Chloe's eyebrows create a slow arc towards her hairline, blinking over at Beca. There is the usual, flustered feeling that follows any kind of emotionally demanding transparency hot under her skin. She kind of loops over her choice of words again in her mind a few times- it's truthful, simple, and straightforward, which she wanted- but if she could have delivered it more eloquently, that would have been great. She sounded like a moron. The spaces were drawn out too long and- it's usually in times like this she's about to start running her mouth so that she doesn't have to agonize over that.

It's exactly what she was about to do when she notices Chloe's lip twitch in a half-smirk. "Beca sad?" She cooes, reading Beca's mind like it was the Cosmo she had just held and batting those lashes at her from across the bed. Beca doesn't even try to hide the way she rolls her eyes in her sockets. But she can feel it there- ghosting her own expression- a smile. Chloe raises her fists up to her face, gently making a crying motion. "Beca...cry?"

"Oh my God." She runs her tongue along the front of her teeth, the whine making itself petulantly known in her voice. "I'm being serious! Look at me, I'm all..." She frowns around the word. " _open_." Chloe's just grinning there like some evil little gremlin, relishing in Beca's discomfort. She kind of wants to smack her. "And you're making fun of me!"

"Beca," Chloe clicks her tongue, dropping the gimmick from her demeanor but still lilting her head lazily to the side to observe her. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, ' _what do you mean_ '? I just told you."

"What do you mean, it makes you sad?" Chloe clarifies without missing a beat. The weight of the returning seriousness of the conversation quickly settles in her chest. Tightening again. Twisting. Clamming up.

"Like... _this_." She's not communicating all that well and she wants to bash her head into the floor. "Where I'm all shitty and- and- suckish, and you're all sad and- I don't want to be responsible for that, dude. You're like a sunshine ball."

Chloe straightens a bit, brow furrowing in the middle. "I'm not sad."

Chloe's not a terrible liar- if you're the world's most gullible person. "Chlo." Beca says stiffly, dropping her chin towards her chest without breaking eye contact. "I'm not stupid, I can tell when something's up with you. And _this_ ," she repeats her vague gesture between them. "is a pretty good reason for you to be off." And the second she says it, she realizes how much she sounds like she's putting this back on Chloe. "And me too!" She adds, practically slapping herself in the boob. Chloe's eyes widen. "I'm off, too. It's- it was _surprising_ , it was different, it was-"

"Confusing." Chloe finishes for her, nodding to herself, mouth kind of pulling into a strange grin. The way Beca's does when she's nervous. It's a Beca mannerism, and it's equally curious for her to have noticed it. Wonder when on _Earth_ Chloe had picked up that tick. Because it certainly wasn't a very helpful one, in Beca's experience. "for you, I'm sure."

"Well." She diverts her attention away from Chloe's mouth though, meeting her eyes, and then the cracked open window. She's only breathing in the tops of her lungs. "Yeah." It raises pitch in the middle, and Beca drops her hands onto her thighs with a heavy kind of slap. It _was_ confusing. She feels a bit like a horrified, sexually bombarded thirteen year old in a dark room. _Meaning_ ; devoid of any knowledge about the situation, but she'd like to maintain the illusion that she knew exactly what she was doing, of what was happening around her. "Confusing, yeah. That's. Yeah. That too."

There's a reason she didn't lose her virginity until she was eighteen.

"Beca-" She has the inkling feeling that Chloe is about to try to apologize to her again.

"I just needed time to... sit." She's not sure how else to describe it. But she ought to get on with it. "And I'm sorry that I have been avoidant and... standoffish. You didn't deserve that. You don't."

Chloe considers this for a moment. Beca can see the muscle in her jaw clench, and the girl has to look a away for a moment, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. Something in Beca's stomach lurches when she realizes this may result in Chloe crying- and that will absolutely not help her in the whole communication department. She's not like Chloe. She doesn't know what to do when people begin to do that. She doesn't know how to make people feel at ease.

"Well, thank you." Chloe finally manages, albeit thickly. "I appreciate your apology, Beca. But I really shouldn't have done it in the first place. I don't know what came over me-" Blue eyes are suddenly probing at her- Beca can't recall seeing them move, but they're suddenly staring her down. Their vibrancy heightened by the bloodshot and misty look to them.

Chloe _is_ really beating herself up about it.

With as much- yet so little- thinking as she's done, she hadn't really contemplated that part of the case.

Chloe is confident. That isn't breaking news. Beca had witnessed her take the reins- drunkenly, usually- a few times, and she did so with an enviable amount of composure. She'd watched her flirt her way out of a speeding ticket, and into a free donut at _The Donut Shack_. Every move was deliberate, calculated, and performed with award winning success. Sure, she'd clearly seen the girl get a bit sloppy every now and then- drunkenly, usually- but it was always so damn endearing anyway, that it didn't matter if there was more nose in the kiss than anything else. Or so it would appear. In control, and bold- both things in which Beca lacked. And, there was almost never regret on Chloe's part.

So, maybe she just assumed that Chloe would shake it off. She wasn't really the kind of person to lament about romantic failures, or at least not for long. The initial ' _fuck, Chloe, what are you doing_?' reaction was about as far as Beca considered. A teeny, _tiny_ bit of shame that came from letting herself get carried away- maybe she just hadn't gotten laid in a while, and for some reason, right there in the kitchen with Beca of all people seemed like the right time to land a kiss. It happens. People get weird.

Only, she's not taking Jesse's theory into account right now because she doesn't want to speculate.

"We're still," Chloe starts, sounding less upset now rather than just worried. "good though, right?"

That throws her off-kilter; whether it be how scared Chloe sounds asking it, or how she'd actually been catching on to this moment of insecurity. Like, how could Chloe _ever_ think that there was ever a possibility that she could ruin anything? Like things couldn't be okay between them anymore?

Had Beca made her feel that?

"Are you crazy?" She scoffs. She's not good at easing people, but that won't stop her from trying. "Of course we're good."

There's another pause. Beca takes the opportunity to sit back, lowering her gaze for a moment- because there's a lot of eye contact happening and she doesn't really want to see the added pain of Chloe getting all teary again.

"Really?"

As if she really thinks she can break down Beca's walls and that Beca would truly let her go so easily. "Obviously, Chlo."

"I didn't...?" She still doesn't sound entirely convinced. Sure, maybe it was scary for Beca to take everything into consideration- like skydiving without a parachute scary- but the truth is, she had metaphorically landed, after all, totally unharmed. The only damage was Jesse, but even that was minimal. She was just making things harder for herself by obsessing about how indistinguishably confusing the fall was to be glad that she was okay.

"N-no, no," These last few revelations are kind of making her dizzy. "Not at all."

"Okay."

Those two syllables aren't really sufficient enough for Beca- not now. She probably would have taken it a couple of minutes ago, but she feels like she's getting somewhere. Sighing, she wrings her hands together in her lap, staring at them with an intensity she didn't know she was capable of. "Don't give yourself a hard time, Chlo." It was hard. "It's- it's uhm, I don't know. It's just me. It's the way I am. I make things difficult, and even more confusing, and I'm sorry." She stops, giving Chloe an opening to say something. But it's a suffocating silence. "I just don't know how to- I guess- react to things? I don't know what to do with..." _feelings_ , "you know, uh, how- how to-" _how to talk without sounding like a knob_ , "deal with things."

The opening up thing, she's working on.

"I don't want to hurt you, or anyone. But I do sometimes because I don't know what to do with anything. Don't feel bad, please, I'm sorry- I should've handled this better." She's surprised her face hasn't lit up in flames yet.

In her periphery, she can see a blur of red hair. Hastily, Beca dabs at the corners of her eyes- not that she was crying, but she didn't want them to appear overly wet, or anything.

As Chloe approaches, Beca forces herself to lock eyes with her; despair crashing down on her when she sees that Chloe's glassiness had melted away with one fat tear releasing from her eyes, despite the fact that she's smiling in the most heartwarming kind of way. "Oh, God, Chlo- don't cry," Chloe laughs, halting her crawl when her knees bump Beca's, and she sits back on her haunches.

"Sorry." She apologizes earnestly, now wiping at her own eyes the same way Beca had. "You've just got me feeling all soft."

"It's like," Beca raises her palms in Chloe's direction, worried the other girl was about to go in for a hug and she could seriously not handle that right now. "Seriously fine, dude. I'm not mad. I'm sorry for how I was. And that's that."

Chloe presses her lips together, trying to hide her grin. "Okay." She croaks out, followed by a quick bubble of laughter. "Thank you. I could apologize more too, but-"

"Please don't."

"Yeah."

"I'm kind of mushed out." She rakes her hand through her hair, starting at the crown of her head and tugging against a knot when she catches it. "I would like to not have anymore of this heart-to-heart right now. I can only take so much at a time," Imploringly, she looks over at the other girl. "And that was pretty taxing for me."

She's relieved though. This- her not talking to Chloe, had been straining on her. And she hates it when she talks about something and _does_ feel better about it- cause it also just makes her feel like a bigger idiot in hindsight. But it's out there, at least, and it's better, and Chloe doesn't _totally_ hate her for being an asshole. So there's no loss.

She still wants to know why it happened. But she doesn't think she's ready for that conversation yet. And she thinks, that may be part of Chloe's apology- which is another reason the idea of it is kind of overwhelming at the moment.

"Alright," Chloe twiddles her thumbs together in her lap. "I'll save that for another time."

* * *

Leaving Chloe's bedroom, she feels about fifteen pounds lighter. She'd loitered a bit longer in the silence, debating with herself to bring up Jesse- and their mutual breakup- but had ultimately rested on saving that for another time, too. Figuring that maybe, at this point and time, giving Chloe that information would just make her more anxious about the situation, and her part in it. There was no point in ruining the pacification. They'd made their peace. There may have been more to talk about, but for now, this was good enough

So, there's a bit of what Beca's father might call " _a spring in her step_ " as she bounces her way back up to her bedroom, greeting Amy coolly as she enters, and flops herself down onto her own mattress. The other girl waves at her halfheartedly, mumbles something about the television show she's currently watching on her laptop, and resumes her idle relaxation.

Beca just kind of sits in it. The feeling. She lets her eyes slip shut, the light, released, floating feeling warm up her brain. Take her places. Quiet, happy, relieved places; where she doesn't have to really think about Jesse, or even really Chloe. Those things were far away. She can just silently congratulate herself for what she _had_ accomplished today.

* * *

"Beca."

Her eyes pop open, alarm jolting through her limns the moment before jade green irises come into focus.

"Dude?" Is her befuddled response. Stacie leans back with a smirk, and scowling, Beca rubs the sleep from her eyes.

"Were you napping?"

"Well, yeah. What did it look like I was doing?" Propping herself up, she watches as Stacie slyly wanders away from her bed, towards the closet. That's when Amy comes into view; sporting a particularly snazzy top, and comparing shoes.

"You know, the best time to nap is between two and three o'clock." Actually, Stacie looks nice, too. Well- nicer than usual. Tight jeans and extra highlighter. With a crease between her brows, Beca thinks to retain this information for later, but can't help but sense that she's missed something. Fishing around under her pillows, Beca feels the cool metal of her phone and pulls it out; squinting as she checks the screen. Only to see she's missed about three dozen messages in the Acabitches groupchat.

"Huh?" She doesn't have the mental capacity to read any of them, though; so she just waves the busy looking device in the other two women's direction. "What is this?"

One long leg slips out from behind the closet door, followed by a torso. Stacie holds up an article of Beca's; shutting one eye and extending it out in front of her as if to imagine Beca in it. "We," She sighs, before disappearing from her vision again. "are going out, Becs."

A terrible sentence. Snorting, Beca burrows herself back into her blankets, tucking them under her chin. "Pass."

"It's really cute," Amy muses from her side of the room. Beca can't see her, but can imagine the expression on her face nonetheless. "that you think you can get out of these things." She hears the creak of Amy's bed as the weight is lifted from it; recalling immediately the onslaught of assault she had gotten- that had turned physical- the last time she had tried to get out of a party. Shooting upwards with her hands out in defense, Beca's breath hitches in her throat when she sees Fat Amy coming to sit intimidatingly on the base of her bed.

"Why can't I just not like to party like the rest of you?" She pleads, eyes frantically searching for Stacie, but only finding her shadow cast onto the floor from the closet. "Why can't you all just live with that?"

"Because," Stacie states matter-of-factually, two other shirts of Beca's in either hand; sizing each one up in her imagination again. "This is university, Beca, and now is the time to make memories. We're just helping you do that, since you won't by yourself."

"I have memories, thank you." She gets the sincerity behind it but she knows it's an excuse more than anything else. "Of singing _acapella_ of all things with a bunch of super cool gals. And I can live with that."

"If those are the only memories you have," Stacie snorts, deciding on the bolder of the two choices- red, the only red article of clothing Beca Mitchell actually owns, aside from a jacket and a pair of pyjama pants- and throwing it in Beca's face. Glaring, she barely catches it before it makes impact. "you're kids are going to think that you were a total dork."

Amy hums her agreement. "Yeah. Besides," Turning the item of clothing over in her hands, Beca sighs. It's going to be cold. Why does Stacie never get cold, and assume no one else will, either? "you need to watch your bezzie after last time-"

"My _what_?" It shrills a bit, but her head is snapping up at Amy with such a magnitude of shock that even Amy looks a bit thrown with the severity of it. That passes after a short moment though.

"Your bezzie." She talks Beca down like a panicked Beagle, even using a palms out motion with her hands to show that she means no harm. "Our aca-sister, Chloe."

"And I need a wingwoman." Stacie adds, popping around the frame of her closet again and jutting out her lip in an exaggerated pout. There are a lot of firsts happening for her, today. Chloe being called her bezzie. Stacie needing a _wingwoman_. Stacie asking _Beca_ to be her wingwoman.

"A _wha_ \- you need a what?" Something connects belatedly in her mind. "Don't you have a Paul?"

"No," Stacie sighs. "That didn't really work out. But at least we still have the sound system," And she beams. Beca rubs at her temple.

"I can never decide if you're good or evil."

She ducks into the closet again with a giggle that's so self-satisfied, that Beca isn't quite sure what to make of it, either. "Anyway, the Hunter is on free range again," Beca grimaces. "and any extra pair of eyes to help me find a suitor is _absolutely_ necessary." That sounds like another excuse. Before Beca can say anything of the likes, however, Stacie is back out and tossing several pairs of jeans her way. "Now- put on that top and we'll find the best match."

"I still don't really want to go." She admits- only after a hesitant glance at Amy- amidst her surrounding pile of jeans.

"There's not a whole lot of a choice." Amy plants a gentle hand against her knee, but Beca knows it's still a tactic.

Everything is some tactic against her in this damn house.

Sighing forlornly, Beca clutches the fabric thrown her way, and rises to her feet. Amy cheers her on as she gets up- and, after a reassuring pat to the behind as she goes- Stacie is right on her heels.


	14. Chapter 14

**So here is a quick, short chapter just to let everyone know that I'm still thinking about this everyday! I haven't gotten around to bringing my computer in yet, honestly, and I've been ridiculously busy lately. Hope this tidbit makes you happy! Thank you for understanding!**

* * *

Chloe's glad that Beca apologized.

She still doesn't feel like it was something Beca needed to do, because she truly takes responsibility for being at fault. But her mother had always said, _"If someone needs to apologize to you, it's because they feel like they've hurt you, and that hurts them. Forgiveness is how we grow, especially when we forgive ourselves."_ and so Chloe had tried to apply that notion wherever she could.

She still, of course, needs to apologize to Beca in return. It's sort of driving her just a _little_ bit crazy, but she knows that eventually, she'll get her chance. Beca needed time to decompress after such an inflated emotional exchange. That was just how she worked.

So after Beca leaves, Chloe only lets herself sit in it for a minute or two. Long enough to make peace, feel grateful, but not overthink. When she feels that full-body, ' _everything is right'_ blanket cover her, she gets up and keeps herself busy. Shuts the window. Fetches her laptop. Springs open a couple tabs to partially work on her latest Russian Lit assignment, and she texts her mom, and Aubrey.

Keeping things mundane.

Mundane is not something that occurs normally in an Acapella sorority house, however. That much is clear when forty-five minutes later, the Acabitches groupchat starts blazing up her phone. And then there's a knock on her door.

"Yoo-hoo," Stacie cooes, cracking the door. "Red?"

"I'm in here," Chloe lowers the lid of her laptop, smiling to herself as she watches messages begin filtering in so fast that she can't read them. It doesn't worry her, though, because she has a feeling her leggy peer is about to let her in on whatever it is that's happening. "Back from your class already?"

"Proff ended it early," Stacie slides into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door behind her. "Said he wasn't feeling well. I hear I missed an aca-appointment."

Blowing the air from her cheeks, Chloe gently shoves aside her laptop when Stacie begins sauntering over, to make more room for the other girl. "Um, yeah. Yes. We had one."

One coy eyebrow raises at Chloe's pitch as the other girl gracefully sidles up next to her. "That tone seems really confident, Chlo. What's up?" She then inspects a cuticle intensely, for a moment- bringing her hand close to her face and squinting hard, before shrugging. Chloe watches with detached interest, moreso sorting through her true, gritty, and panic inducing emotions about the whole situation without having another complete meltdown.

The thought of losing the Bellas makes her sick. It gives her such a horrible feeling in her gut, that she's surprised that she hasn't yet become physically ill from it. It sort of feels like some evil person had force-fed her a bottle of bleach, and it was burning up all of her organs. She hates it. Hates thinking that she will have been unable to bring them back around; she wishes becoming international champions wasn't the only way to do it, because Chloe would even settle for a returned state of semi-respectable, under the radar acapella of her earlier Bella years. Even if she could help return the Bellas there, she could live happily.

Not that she didn't love being champions. Because she did. Chloe is so proud of it, full of so much love for it, that it could also make her puke. Rainbows, and sunshine, if that was a thing. And she loves that Beca helped take them there, to that whole new step. She loves that girls like Emily- legacy as she may be- look up to them.

She'd also be lying a little bit, if she said that she doesn't enjoy her fair share of winning, too.

So the thought of DSM swooping up from nowhere, using Beca's _basically_ patented mash-up sound, and crushing them under their clunky boots? Not good. While Chloe does believe that the members of DSM love to perform- deep down, under their mutated need to conquer- well. That's just the problem. The Bellas are family. They worked so hard to get where they are. To have some other team discredit them for a stupid mistake, and humiliate them?

That just doesn't seem fair at all.

"We didn't really get that far." She admits, thinking about their sloppy, jotted notes. _LOSING 2 DSM._ At this rate, she hopes heart is all it will take. Pressing a smile, Chloe tacks on a quick "but I haven't lost all confidence yet." to keep it light.

Stacie hums, knowingly- too knowingly- but responds as she should. "Maybe I can infiltrate. You know, _sleeping with the enemy_." She winks. As if Chloe didn't already know _entirely_ what she was talking about.

"Uh-huh. Well, we'll slot that in for last resorts, kay?"

"You sound like Beca!" She gives Chloe a gentle shove, laughter peeling out of her. "God, you are so whipped. Even adopting her mannerisms."

Gasping, she shoves the younger girl back. "Shut up!" And pointing an accusing finger the other girls way, she probes Stacie in the sternum, hard. "You have way too much fun with this."

Stacie shrugs nonchalantly, rising from the bed and wandering over towards Chloe's ajar closet door. "I've said it once, I've said it twice- I've said it a thousand times-" Glancing over her shoulder with a playful smirk, the younger girl rakes her eyes over Chloe's appearance, clearly searching for more of a rise. But Chloe would let her tease as much as she wanted; truthfully, it didn't really bother her all that much. Stacie was trustworthy. And Chloe wasn't as easily ruffled as their tiny, adorable counterpart currently at the butt of her teasing. "Beca is just as whipped. You can get her to do anything."

Smiling to herself- because yeah, Chloe can't even deny it, Beca will usually cave whenever Chloe asks her to do anything- she shakes her head. "Beca is with Jesse. I think you and he wear the same rose-coloured glasses."

Stacie's back is to her, flippantly inspecting Chloe's wardrobe, even though she's surprised Stacie hasn't memorized the entire house's closet selections by now. But she sighs, stopping at a windbreaker and picking up the arm, pulling it for a better look. "Doesn't mean she can't be whipped." She drops it, turning on heel with enviable finesse. "You ready for some hot dish?"

"Is it why the groupchat is blowing up?" Chloe stretches for her phone, nudging it for emphasis.

"Yeah, I'll get to that."

Chloe raises her eyebrows. "So you have some different hot dish news? Find your new Paul?"

Exaggeratedly, Stacie pouts, but wanders her way over to Chloe's vanity; pulling the chair out and settling herself adjacent to the bed. "No. But I ran into Jesse today,"

And now her brows furrow together. Why would Jesse be hot dish news? Was he… cheating on Beca? Did Stacie see him with another girl? Or, _no, Chloe-_ it's probably a party invite, or something else acapella related. She needs to immediately stop the negative train of thought before she gets carried away, so Chloe takes a deep breath and mentally slams on the brakes. "Oh?"

Stacie nods her head once. "Mmm-hmm! On the quad. It went like this," Stacie is usually pretty good at cutting to the chase, but Chloe gets comfortable anyway, feeling like there might be a bit of a story here, and therefore, the two of them might be in here a while. "I take it he was coming back from class. I had just stopped at the coffee shop in the Main building, I had ended up leaving a bit early for my principles and applications of quantum mechanics class,"

"Sure," Chloe agrees, still feeling a little bit winded whenever Stacie starts talking astro, even after nearly four years.

"And I was about to walk over to the science building when I thought I'd spotted him. I made a detour, hoping that if he had some time to chat, he could help me kill a couple minutes. Maybe with some movie mumbo-jumbo, I don't know. While we were talking, he showed me the nasty DSM tweet, and I got like, super annoyed."

"Right."

"We started discussing DSM and how much their sportsmanship sucks, and I started asking him how Beca was and, well, long story short, I guess- Beca broke up with him, Chloe." Stacie dips her chin to her chest, eyes imploringly indicating ' _did you know anything about this?_ '

As a matter of fact, she didn't. Hadn't. Sure, Beca had been clamming up lately, but they had talked a substantial amount today, and she hadn't said a thing. Not even hinted at it. Beca had sat, and talked through her feelings- which Chloe had no doubt that she had been genuinely letting herself suffer and sulk for long enough- and not even slipped Jesse's name into a single sentence. The subject of her four year relationship? Broken up, just like that? Chloe knows and understands that Beca needed her space, but to think even as just a best friend, that Beca hadn't come to her once with anything about it- not even passive reflection?

"Wait," Chloe shakes her head. "What?"

"I mean, unless Jesse is pulling my leg?" Stacie scrunches her nose up, considering. "Doubt it, though. I feel like he'd totally be a garbage liar."

Beca's private. She likes privacy. But the idea is kind of making her head swim, because as long as she's known Beca, she's been at least somewhat aware of Jesse- if not entirely. So she sees and hears Stacie speaking, but doesn't really comprehend it. "You- Jesse told you that they broke up?"

Stacie drops her head against her shoulders, rolling it around. Chloe's phone still buzzes intermittently as a groupchat message is delivered. "I guess you didn't know?"

"No. Definitely not."

The girl winces. "I shouldn't have said anything. I figured that she would have told you, and you were going to give me more insight on the situation so that I didn't have to bug Beca about it."

Was it because of the kiss?

With a ceremonious flare of drama, Chloe drops backwards against the bed, shutting her eyes- tight. "Stacie," She sighs. She'd have to confess to her sin at some point. And now was as good a time as ever to come clean, she supposes. Before she can sinkhole into her own mess of thoughts. "Can you shut the door? I made a big mistake." Her phone chimes again.

Chloe grapples with a few different ways to start the conversation in her mind while Stacie wordlessly, obediently, walks over to the bedroom door and shuts it. _Click_.

"You know," Chloe feels the mattress shift under her, and she peeks open one eye to get a look at the other girl. Stacie gently settles down against the bed, resting her head atop of the pillow next to her. "I sensed that you and Beca had some kind of lovers quarrel," Chloe rolls her eyes with a groan. "She's been more squirrelly than usually lately. Especially with you. What happened?" And then, softly, she places her hand against Chloe's leg, just above the knee. Something about it- just a part of what is quintessentially Stacie, she guesses, always seems distantly sensual. Chloe is struck with a far-off, strange wonder about what it would look like right now if someone were to into her room. Especially someone brazen like Amy, whose mind would jump to the most obscure conclusion. "You can tell Aunt Stacie." She squeezes reassuringly, and Chloe shakes the thought clear.

She's got bigger fish to fry than worry about hypotheticals, at the moment.

Inhaling deeply, Chloe stares up at the ceiling for a few seconds as she gathers herself. "Do you remember Aubrey's dilemma?" She glances over at the younger girl, catching it just in time as her eyes spark with a kind of mirth.

"Uh-huh." She responds, evenly.

Before Chloe can convince herself otherwise, she lets her next few words rush out of her mouth like she'd just been struck a semi-truck. " _ItwasmydilemmanotAubrey's_."

Her eyes scan Stacie's face a mile a minute, looking for every single minute sign. The way Stacie's eyes narrow for a moment, and lips purse, carefully slicing apart every syllable Chloe had managed out and separating them to make sense in her mind. And then the lightbulb, half a second later, when said jade green eyes pop open as wide as possible and she lets out a long, loud gasp, slowly rising up.

Stacie's mouth is open in shock- the delighted kind, like she'd just stumbled across an Abercrombie and Finch male calendar photoshoot- as she readjusts to sit on her knees. Chloe covers her face in an attempt to retain some of her dignity. "Shut _up!_ You kissed Beca?!" She is clearly trying to keep her voice down, but Chloe can practically feel the way she's vibrating with glee. "Oh my _God,_ Red!"

"It's not good, Stace! I need support." Maybe she should have gone to Stacie in the first place. Chloe doesn't really know the first thing about this situation, or how to properly handle it- she doesn't even know if she really requires any help- all she knows is to just roll with the punches, and do what feels right.

Even if, arguably, doing what felt right got her into this whole predicament in the first place.

Stacie sighs now, reigning in some of her initial excitement to fit the role of ' _Supportive Aunt Tacie_ ' a bit better. "Well, you had a plethora of support when we all flocked here to help Aubrey." She raises an eyebrow. " _Or_ , as the cards reveal themselves- _you_." And then, with an exaggerated air of snobbery, she turns her nose up. "Myself included."

"You're advice was to ' _make him want you_ '." She reminds the other girl, helplessly throwing her hands up. "Beca isn't exactly…"

"I _sensed_ something was up,"

"She, well- Beca apologized." Chloe attempts to explain, catch Stacie up on where they now stood. "For you know, shelling away and all. Which I don't blame her, of course not, that's just how she is. So, all that is- _hopefully_ \- on the mend. But I feel so… bad."

Stacie twists her lips. "If she apologized, and I'm sure she understands that you're beating yourself up. It's Beca, she can be stubborn but she's not dense. So what's the big whoop?"

With a sound achingly reminiscent of a bleating lamb, Chloe waves her hands around helplessly as she strings together her anxieties. "What if- did I- did this cause that? Them breaking up?"

With an audible exhale, Stacie reaches forward. She cups either side of Chloe's face in her palms, squishing her cheeks together and giving her, what Chloe can feel, fish mouth. It effectively quiets her lamenting, though. "Chlo," Stacie pleads. " _Chill_. If the foundations were strong on the Jeca ship, this wouldn't have done that." She lets go, and Chloe's face immediately drops into a frown. "It was only a matter of time- _clearly_. Beca actually brought something up to me after I saw her throw something of a temper tantrum." There's another ' _but_ ' on the tip of her tongue that Stacie must sense, because with an act of finality, she slaps a hand against Chloe's kneecap. " _Now_ \- we're going out. Amy and I found this awesome place that combines karaoke team singing- _hello_ \- and drinking. It's perfect. There's a prize. Find something to wear." She bounces to her feet.

Chloe sighs. Karaoke singing and drinking? Well, it did sound like a good time. "Wait-" Stacie was heading towards the door rather quickly. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to help me outfit plan?" Only because they usually do that together while pre-drinking. It was kind of their thing.

Stacie stops with her hand on the doorknob. "I will- but I'll be right back. Wear something… red." And then, with a dazzling smile, she slips out.

Chloe keeps Stacie's words in her mind, churning them around a few times, trying to absorb the reassurances. And then, before she gives herself a headache, she pushes herself to her feet.

Fine. A fun night is just what she needs to distract herself.


	15. Chapter 15

**My computer was salvageable! And here we have the chapter that was almost finished when it initially crapped out on me, so... sorry if there are any inconsistencies with this and the previous chapter, things ended up taking a bit of a different course, and I'm a bit out of the flow of writing for this story, but.. yay! So glad for you guys out there. Hope it's not too late and the Bechloe fandom hasn't completely died!  
**

* * *

Chloe has a competitive edge to her. It's not what she would call dull- but it's not as fine tuned and razor sharp as, say, Aubrey. It's there, though; as sure as the sunrise. She loves to compete in the spirit of fun- loves the warm rush of adrenaline that will build under her skin. She likes to win, when it's appropriate. And she thinks, that as long as one can keep a semi-level head in the face of competition, that it's really quite healthy- at the very least, harmless.

She's seen many kinds of competitive spirits. Degrees of it. In fact, there had been a night where the Bellas had all taken an online quiz that ranked their competitive nature; and those who came out on top were herself, Amy, Beca, and surprisingly, Flo. That had resulted in a game of Monopoly that had Fat Amy bankrupt in forty-five minutes, and that Flo had come out on top. Amy had demanded a different game. Jessica had taught them all a game of cards that no one had heard of- and Beca had absolutely trumped. Amy called it beginner's luck, and demanded another. They opted for Clue, which Chloe had in the bag, naturally. She'd had several paper-thin accusations of cheating thrown her way from only one opponent- guess who- and the game night had ended in Jenga, where Amy had finally come out on top.

Amy's competitivness was persistent. Flo's was tactical. Aubrey's was an ever-sharpening knife blade that was very threatening at times. Beca's was all cocky self-assurance, once her initial stiffness had thawed away. Chloe's not sure what hers is like, but she's sure that someone could tell her if she really wanted to know.

So, she's not at all opposed to this whole ' _Teams within teams_ ' idea. She's actually thrilled when she hears it. She loves when there's an excuse to really be _The Bellas_ outside of strictly Bellas events. Even if this event happens to be some bizarre pub, where the Tonehangers are loitering in one corner of; Bumper and Amy coyly trying to ' _not flirt_ '. That they're instructed in the rules- their overall group is competing for a Group Prize- but the duo within the Group is competing for the Ultimate Prize. It means they have to work together, even when they're not, which is a new spin on things. And, to make things even better for her, Stacie and Amy seemed to have taken the liberty of matching Beca in red to symbolize her partnership with Chloe.

Beca, whom was scowling like she'd rather be attending a seminar on sexual harassment in the workplace. It's fine though. Chloe's vibrating, even with the new knowledge on her shoulders that Beca had broken up with Jesse. She's going to bide her time, because she doesn't feel like now is the time or place to bring it up, so she shelves that concern for the time being. She's shelled out her five bucks to join the ' _competition_ '- money which mostly goes towards shots, she thinks, because it's also mandatory that every member of the team take one after every song. She hadn't entirely been listening to how the winners are selected, but it might also be safe to assume that it's simply the last one standing that takes the crown.

"Who's ready to drink their tits off?" Amy exclaims, elbowing her way over to her fellow Bellas with a tray of various liquids situated in shot glasses wobbling precariously in her hands. She makes it safely to their table, however, setting said tray down with a wide grin. "Pick your poison, ladies. We have," She sweeps her arm out to gesture at the assembly. "Vodka, tequila, whiskey-"

Chloe knows this is around the time Beca will try one last cop out. She senses it in the air, and without question, the brunette delivers. "How about a Sprite?" She pleas, an awkward smile forming on her face from where she is trying to remain nonchalant. Amy stops mid-explanation, shooting a furrowed look in Beca's direction before turning her nose up in the air.

"You get roulette, then." Amy motions around the tops of the glasses, looking away for effect, before tentatively lowering her hand and grasping the first one her fingers graze. It's vodka, or tequila- she hopes only vodka, for Beca's sake. But Amy all but shoves it in Beca's face, who peeps indignantly, her glower only intensifying as she swipes the drink from Amy's hand and sets it in front of her. Chloe catches her eye, and Beca huffs unhappily, to which she can only grin.

"Well, hand me some tequila," Stacie purrs, reaching across the tables and wiggling her fingers just short of the tray. Amy assists.

"Ginge? CR? Jessica?" The Tasmanian questions the remaining three, advertising the remaining shots once again.

Chloe requests that Amy surprise her, and the woman repeats the same action she had done with Beca, before setting an amber liquid in front of her. Chloe gives it a small sniff, the sweet scent of it hitting her- she knows it's whiskey. She'd never been crazy about whiskey, but when the time comes to clink glasses, she does; and tips it back, only allowing it to touch her tongue for the minimal amount of time. It immediately burns down her throat, coming to sit hot in the pit of her belly, and the cheers from those around her only make her more giddy.

"This sounds like drink mixing all night," Beca whispers into her, eyeing the announcer on the stage as he tries to explain the ' _game_ ' to the rest of the crowd. Most of which aren't listening.

"Stick to what you had if you don't want to get sick," Chloe suggests, quirking an eyebrow as she turns to look at Beca over her shoulder. "What did you have?"

Stormy blues peek at Chloe from their corners, and the telltale, somewhat guilty twist of her mouth reveals the answer before Beca can even utter it. "Tequila."

Chloe presses the back of her hand against her mouth. "Maybe don't take that advice, then." Because it wouldn't make for Beca being a great partner, after all. No matter how much she likes to see the other girl let loose, Beca usually is mortified afterwards, and they are kind of competing.

And they get onto the stage. She and Beca take the second song- the likes of which were completely random, coming from the 'DJ''s prehistoric iPod shuffle. It's not acapella- just karaoke, which doesn't necessarily bum Chloe out, she's just not used to it. But personally, she thinks that they absolutely kill Foreigner's Juke Box Hero anyway, and there's another round of shots. She switches to Fireball. She's not sure if Beca has heeded her advice at all, she's too busy watching Cynthia Rose and Stacie face off in an epic rendition of The Veronicas 4Ever.

The whole organization of the thing is messy, and blurry. When people- Tonehangers, and Jessica- start clearly having some balance problems, Chloe is less concerned with winning and more with just having fun in the moment. Because she's decidedly more drunk now than she had been during their first song- but she's by no means sloppy yet. Just buzzed. The alcohol had time to soak into her bloodstream.

And genre is kind of cast aside when it comes to this tournament. She thinks it might actually be part of the challenge- because there had been a previous song that had come on that neither member of the third team had known, and they'd been deducted some points, or something. Chloe really wasn't keeping track, but she clued in to that much. So when the first chords of a song come on, and Chloe can't shake up any recollection to them, she spins, wide-eyed, towards Beca.

Beca's eyebrows arc towards her hairline, and her lips press into a thin line. In a matter of only a few short seconds, her eyes dart to either side, and then with a small amount of embarrassment, she admits. "I know this. Don't judge me because I know this."

It's garners an odd reaction, sure. But then Beca- stripping away her reservations, as liquor would promise- is inhaling sharply and turning to face the rest of her Bellas, one arm shooting out towards them and the other raising the microphone to her mouth. Chloe can see the tension still holding in her shoulders that says she's not a hundred percent comfortable, but she's liberated enough to pretend like she is. _"Angel wings on my whole damn team!"_

As the beat gets going, Chloe is transported back to empty swimming pools. Riff-offs. But all she can do this time is stand, stupefied, watching Beca pump out lyrics she doesn't know- because this is _not_ Dr. Dre, she has no idea _what_ the hell it is. She's just as mesmerized as she is impressed. With the small, almost shy smile and blush that accompanies her as she tries to hand the mic off to the other team. They don't know it, either. And if the equally gleeful looks on all the other Bellas faces are anything to go by; Beca is the only one that does, and so she has to carry it on her own.

And she lets her eyes rove of their own accord; given up on absorbing the lyrics, Chloe simply takes in Beca instead. The angle of her jaw, the way it moves around her speech. Her tiny legs, stilted slightly by those bulky boots that Beca had become accustomed to wearing. The drooping neckline of that red shirt she had on- that Chloe had never seen before- and her eyes catch there for a moment longer than they should. Or, a few moments. She's actually treated to a bit of an eyeful; which she can appreciate, as she does with anyone, but there is something slithering and sickly warm about it this time, and it curls around Chloe's waist like a new belt for her to wear. She shouldn't ogle her friend. She knows this. Is reminded of this when she feels that serpentine feeling settle, and only then does she move her gaze away.

The alcohol just makes it easier for those things to slip from her, that's all. But they do; they slide away from Chloe's immediate reach and she's pulled along for the ride. Which is why she sort of has to double back, and peek another look when she knows Beca isn't going to notice.

It's also why she feels like she's been zapped with a lightning bolt the second that something pointy- which she soon realizes is Stacie's elbow- makes contact with a few of her ribs. Jolting away from the assault, she turns, indignant but with a heat creeping up her neck that threatens to make itself known- only to see the taller Bella smirking down at her. "Like what you see, Red?" She teases, and Chloe has about four seconds to try to gather the earth under her feet. Four seconds is more than enough for Stacie, however. "I'd almost be offended," She gestures at her own nearly bust-exposing top, to emphasize her assets' own presence. "had this whole situation not been so darn adorable!"

It hits her in that moment that Beca had stopped singing- _rapping_ \- and will likely be joining them any moment, so she simply gives Stacie her best impression of a glare, pressing her index finger to her lips. "Shush!"

Stacie mimics locking her lips with a key, and tossing it over her shoulder. "I didn't see anything."

"No?" As expected, Beca sidles up next to them, breathless. "That's too bad, because I kind of kicked ass."

Her cocky confidence- especially when it is attached somehow to being competitive- has yet to fail in making Chloe feel some kind of way. It's easy for her to bounce off of- and while Beca is not typically brimming with that breed of self-assurance, it's nice to see that spotlight don itself on her. Or rather, see Beca wield it. "Careful," She warns playfully. "If your head gets much bigger, you'll fall off the stage."

Beca narrows her eyes- jaw popping open like she's about to say something, but Amy comes nearly crashing forward with two shots held in her hands. She shoves the orangish one towards Chloe- and the clear one at Beca. "Bottoms up! And, I don't mean doggie." Chloe wrinkles her nose at that good-naturedly, but Beca's look of clear distaste is far more apparent. She shrugs, tipping the Fireball back with only a moments thought to how adding more flammable liquid to the growing embers in the base of her gut isn't what would be considered ' _smart_ '. But, this is how the game has to work.

That much is clear as Amy and Bumper begin yelling at each other from across the stage.

Beca grimaces as she finishes her shot, making a fuss about where to put it as Jessica materialises out of thin air, wisping forwards and plucking it from the other girl's fingers in one smooth motion as she passes. Beca beams. And Chloe's stomach does a few lazy, booze-addled rolls; knocking over her stored jar of butterflies and letting them flutter freely. All the way up into her chest, crowding her heart. It's something that the opening chords of Taylor Swift's Love Story does absolutely nothing to help- she sort of feels like she's in one of the cheesy romance movies from her youth. When the guy is all slow motion as a wayward gust ruffles his hair, and the girl is lovestruck at a distance. Helpless to all the pining she's about to do.

Beca tips her head back as she registers the song, letting out one long, suffering groan. Amy's rendition isn't quite the same as Taylor's- but Chloe will take what she can get.

"Don't even pretend like you don't love this song, Beca." Reaching outwards, Chloe clasps both of Beca's hands between her own and tugging the smaller girl over the remaining space between them. Beca lets out a small peep of surprise as she stumbles forward, only to be enveloped into a full-body hug before she can so much as get her hands up in defense. "Everyone has a soft spot for Taylor." She wonders if she should feel guiltier than she does. Knows she probably would, had she been entirely sober- but as it is, she's not. Yet, anyway.

"Not me." Is muttered into her shoulder, Beca craning her head away. With a chuckle, Chloe releases her, and Beca immediately smooths out the front of her shirt, eyes darting around. Flustered. The lighting isn't great- but she thinks she can see the beginning of a blush. Still not a hundred percent ready for that, Chloe surmises. The situation had been mended- but was still healing.

Sparing Beca any further teasing, she continues onward. "How'd you know that song, anyway?"

Beca raises her eyebrows, uncertainly dipping a thumb towards herself. "Me?" Chloe's giggle is a sure enough answer, and Beca drops the hand from her chest with a sheepish grin. "Oh. I spend like, a lot of time on the internet, dude. Spotify. Soundcloud." She shrugs, absently tucking a strand behind her ear. "You know. They dug that one out of the abyss."

She does know. So she leaves it at that, joining Stacie offstage to enjoy the rest of the song. And then the next. And then it's hers and Beca's turn to go again, and by this point in time, she has a vague sense to be worried about her motor skills. Or how she might sound as she laughs her way through some oldschool Usher.

Beca, on the other hand, should probably tap out. It's no secret that Chloe is a bit better at holding her liquor- and she can wager that Beca is three, to four shots to being unconscious. Amidst the relative chaos, she'd managed to miss Beca's " _just enough_ " phase, because it seems like within a blink of an eye, she was slurring and encouraging Stacie to go after the curly-haired individual at the far end of the bar.

But of course, by now, Stacie has long since disappeared, leaving Cynthia Rose to help tend to Beca, and Jessica- who seems fast approaching the very same destination Beca is. In fact, Chloe kind of feels like some kind of wilderness explorer observing foreign wildlife; the way Beca and Jessica giggle and slur about things that apparently, only the two of them can understand.

"Bhloe!" Amy hoots, slapping two more shots down on the table. "Your go."

She eyes the shot, and then Beca, who is actively trying to silence Jessica from humming their freshman year Ace of Base performance. She hasn't even noticed Amy's approach yet. "I think we need to tap out." Beca has considered it a feasible way to stop the other Bella by simply wrapping herself around Jessica as much as she can while still sitting like a human koala. She thinks she can make out ' _You stop that, you_!' from around Jessica's laughter.

"What?" Amy's voice piques in disbelief during the vowel. "Chloe, there's only one team left in the Tonehangers. And it's not even Bumper!"

She does her best to look sympathetic, even taking to grabbing Amy by the forearm, gently pulling her downwards so that she can whisper in her ear. "Look at that, Aims. Anymore liquor and we'll be piggy-backing Beca home." Amy pulls back, seemingly considering. Chloe thinks about telling Amy to take their place, but she wouldn't like to send Jessica out that way, either. "I think it's pizza and water time."

"Ginge," Amy plants a heavy hand on her shoulder, and Chloe kind of sways under the weight. "I expected better of you tonight."

Her mouth falls open. "What? Why?"

"You're maybe the second best drinker in the house." Beside her, there's an indignant grunt from Cynthia Rose- who has somehow remained startlingly close to sober during this whole thing. Amy's eyes flicker over towards the noise, and she dips her head in acknowledgement; letting it loll from side to side. "Third." She corrects,and Chloe, no doubt, knows that Amy considers herself to be the first. "But where is the Chloe who nurses the tequila bottle on the kitchen floor when I need her?"

Chloe shuts her eyes against the memory- or, the memory of the _hangover_ she had endured for nearly two days- but lets a soft chuckle pass through her lips. She pats Amy's hand on her shoulder reassuringly. Had they been at home- a Bellas or Treble's house party where any number of them could slip off to bed easily, she would say go forth. Give Beca and Jessica the next shot- or, she would simply substitute herself in their place- though, no one had come to her with the infamous words " _Make sure Amy doesn't get me too fucked up_ ". She would let herself ride out the booze-train. But distanced from those accessible things, Chloe doesn't really like to let herself down that path that lacks control. She would prefer to lookout for those in Beca and Jessica's shoes; because it was simply a better alternative than dealing with somebody passed out on the pavement. She's been there. And wouldn't like to relive it- from either side.

"Soon." She appeases Amy. "Christmas is just around the corner. Think of the festivities."

Eyes implore down into hers, and the hand slinks off her shoulder. Amy grunts unhappily, but appears relatively persuaded. "Fine. But you owe me for this- I heard the grand prize is a blow-up doll." She hums her agreement as Amy reaches for the shots, but she pauses just before her hand can clasp the clear one, usually intended for Beca. "Promise me something, yeah?"

Chloe raises her eyebrows, but jumps on it. "Yeah, what?"

Amy lifts one finger, pointing it in Chloe's direction, singling her out. "We are going to have a Christmas party."

"Uh-huh." Because they always do. Christmas- _duh_.

"And you are going to get drunker than a ballerina in Mexico."

It's a dangerous thing to promise. It's a promise that Chloe's mother would gasp her shock at, and she knows there might be smallest sliver of regret tied to this, but Chloe takes the pinky finger being offered to her within her own, squeezing tight. Amy hollers at such a volume that they attract attention, but no further persuasion is needed. From across the table, Cynthia Rose raises her hand.

"Should I work on getting a pizza delivered?" In her opposite hand, she raises her cellphone, indicating to it with a curious finger. A positive hubbub of noise works as her answer, and she trusts someone- CR- will also work on calling a cab. So, Chloe rises from her chair and looks around the assembled girls.

"Washroom, anyone?"

Beca grunts, her head lolling a bit heavily against her shoulders with her purposeful nod. "Yes."

Waggling her fingers at the other girl, Chloe's grin only broadens as the brunette places (more like slaps) her hand into her own and Chloe carefully assists in the pulling Beca to her feet. Together, they weave their way through the bar and towards the washrooms- which happened to be through a perilously dimly lit hallway, but they navigated it just fine, much to Chloe's relief.

The moment arises as she's washing her hands in the sink, however, where Chloe squints at her reflection and suddenly the alcohol level in her blood feels like it has spiked. She's a bit blurry, and she bears all resemblances of a drunk person- what with the droopy eyes and lopsided, goofy smile- and she thinks, maybe, the background is spinning but she doesn't really pay that much attention. She just praises herself for realizing it was time to slow down.

She sees Beca's stall open up in the reflection, and the younger girl fusses with the front of her shirt for a moment, before muttering something to herself and making her way to the sink next to Chloe. She shuts off her own tap and heads over to the hand dryer, waving beneath it until the thing kicks into life, and staring down at her hands for a long moment.

"Hey."

She turns, finding Beca staring at her, with her hands still under the tap. Chloe raises an eyebrow, and notes the way Beca's mouth twists and turns before being drawn into a strict line, making her think she's trying not to laugh at something. Which is adorable, but mildly concerning, considering she's staring at her, after all. "What?" She asks, looking down at herself. Nothing seems to be amiss. She even cranes her neck at an attempt to look at her backside, but she can't notice anything there, either. "Do I have toilet paper stuck to me, or something?"

Beca snorts, turning away from Chloe as she shuts the tap. "No, no." And then she hesitates a moment, Chloe can see it in the shuffling of her feet- the momentary stop and start motion her body makes- before walking up next to her and sticking her hands under another dryer.

"What is it?" Chloe prompts again.

Beca doesn't say anything- there's only the noise of the hand dryer, filling up the room. But she can see the way her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip the moment before Beca snares it between her teeth, and gives it a thoughtful tug. Chloe's a bit caught up in that motion, and so it takes her a moment to catch up when Beca drops her hands away from the dryer and turns slightly on heel to face her. Her hands flick away the imaginary droplets of water that no longer cling to her skin, and sheepishly, dark blue eyes reach into a far corner of the washroom. "I'm really sorry I freaked and shelled away. I really am." They zap back to Chloe, who can almost feel the electricity. "It wasn't cool."

Chloe has a penchant to forgive. She often does it without conscious thought. She'd even forgiven her highschool best friend who had ended up sleeping with her ex-boyfriend- Andrew, ugh- not four months after they had broken up, before her wounds had even closed completely. Even after she had been lied to for months about it. When the truth had finally come out, Chloe had let the disappointment soak into her, had reflected, but had ultimately forgiven. There is a twinge of regret about that one, because said friend had seemed to have a pretty easy time dumping Chloe once they graduated.

But still. She'd forgiven, on the grounds of ' _benefit-of-the-doubt_ ', or ' _second chances_ ', or whatever it was that was ingrained into her that was willing to move on. She thinks love has a high place on the list of probabilities.

She'd forgiven Beca immediately, the first time. She'd forgiven her before Beca had even apologized. So hearing it a second time, as appreciative as she may be- or as the reflexive cooing sound she makes may indicate- she really, honestly, doesn't need to hear it again. Because she'd already moved forward.

Though, there are some loose ends she'd like to tie up, while they're on the topic. "Beca," She draws out the last vowel, and if the girl in question wasn't already scowling her disdain at the first sound that had escaped her, she was now. "You don't need to apologize to me, really. I know."

Beca's mouth flounders open and shut, like she wants to argue her wrong, defend it. Chloe has learned over the years that Beca doesn't forgive herself nearly as much, or as often, as she does. So when the other girl gives a resolute nod, maybe only merely pacified, Chloe steps forward until she can hold Beca's hands in hers. And she gives a single squeeze. "I still haven't apologized," She points out; hoping the distraction would do exactly that- take the pressure off of Beca herself- and also, partly because she wants to.

"Well," Beca fiddles with her feet. "I know you're sorry, too. Even if I haven't heard it." And gaining her trust, though it had been a difficult feat at first, had been something Chloe had inadvertently been able to figure out pretty well. She thinks forgiveness played an important part in that.

She's not sure if Beca knows that Chloe doesn't always forgive herself easily, too. Frowning, she drops Beca's hands when she realizes she's still been holding on. "I heard about Jesse."

So much for shelving it. Liquor loosens lips, it's true.

Beca's expression drops, and her eyes start searching the far corners of the room. "Oh, uh, yeah."

But the guilt weighing on her for the possibility is enough to do that on their own, she thinks. It was just a matter of time, and the fact that alcohol consumption was prevalent tonight just sped up the process a little bit. A lot. "I didn't..." She _knows_ Beca knows. That much has been covered. But when she speaks those two, hesitant words, Beca's eyes snap back to her like gravity had just recentered itself. "Did I?"

Beca shakes her head frantically. "No!" Followed by an awkward laughter. "No, no, God no, Chlo..." And the relief flies away from Chloe's being just as quickly. "I mean," Beca admits, biting her tongue between her teeth. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't have something to do with... my decision to finally get it done, but..." She shakes her head again, slower this time, more thoughtful. "It was something I realized I've been putting off for kind of a long time."

Chloe nods along, feeling something that she couldn't quite put a finger on at the moment crawl up into her belly as she watched the expression on Beca's face go through changes. "Are you guys good?"

"Yeah," Beca's own relief is palpable as she says it. "He took it really well." She smiles drunkenly at that, head lolling to the side and making Chloe's own grin spread across her face at the sight of it. "Which I was terrified about so,"

"That's good!" Chloe exclaims.

"Yeah," Beca agrees enthusiastically. "You know, it's time to get my _groove_ back. I've been in such a... a..."

"Slump?"

"In such a _slump_ lately, yeah. With DSM, and Jesse, and-" She cuts herself off, blinking. "I'm rambling. I'm good, though. It's all good." She makes an ' _ok_ ' sign with her left hand to emphasize her point. "It's never been better."

"Good!" She agrees again.

"Yeah," Beca appears winded from her efforts, but she just stares at Chloe. And somehow, Chloe knows it all, even through her drunken stupor, which is dangerously close to getting her to do something else regrettable. But she wrangles that pesky little thought like a professional level ranch-hand with a particularly fiery heffer.

"Guys!" Stacie bursts into the bathroom, haphazardly placing a hand against her breasts to keep them from falling out of her top at such a fast movement. "Cab is here, let's go!"

"Stacie?" Chloe blinks, as though not believing what she's seeing. "I thought you disappeared?"

"I _almost_ did, but the boy didn't like Barack Obama, _and_ -"


End file.
